


Storm

by kiebs, Water Fairy aka Mizu (kiebs)



Series: Storm Universe [1]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alien Abduction, Alien Invasion, Aliens, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resistance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Temporary Amnesia, Underage Drinking, War, but tagging endgame pairings nonetheless, revisiting an old story, romance is not a big part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 112,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22529485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiebs/pseuds/kiebs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiebs/pseuds/Water%20Fairy%20aka%20Mizu
Summary: When an alien lands on Earth, Blossom inexplicably disappears. Eight years later, the world has changed drastically. Buttercup is the leader of a group of rebels and Bubbles is a lieutenant in the Resistance. Their lives have changed since the disappearance of their beloved leader. But when Buttercup finds a redheaded girl on a random patrol, everything is suddenly changed. Where has Blossom been all these years? And why can’t she remember?
Relationships: Boomer/Bubbles Utonium, Brick/Blossom Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Series: Storm Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643971
Comments: 124
Kudos: 144





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2011 (HOLY SHIT) and I'm finally revisiting it and posting it over here. Originally found on FanFiction under the same story name, but the author name is Water Fairy a.k.a. Mizu over there!
> 
> I'll be slowly adding the chapters here as I go back and edit it, fixing errors and writing style. Please enjoy!

The day everything went wrong started out like any other day in Townsville, USA.

It was a warm, sunny day with a pleasant breeze and cool temperature that made up for the horrendous heat that had dominated most of the summer. As it was a pleasant day, most townsfolk were outside playing or daydreaming from the jobs they were stuck at, minds miles away at some beach or foreign vista. And, as it was Townsville, no day would be complete without some sort of mayhem going on.

The smoke billowing from the window of the bank was the first clue that there was a robbery. The screams following the ski-mask clad men was the second clue.

Grinning widely, the men rushed towards their getaway vehicle, waving wildly at the driver. They were actually going get away with it! When was the last time a heist had ever gone right? That’s right! Never! Not since those three girls, those Powerpuff Girls, had appeared seven years ago. The lead thief was so excited he felt like his was running on air…until he felt his shirt collar constricting his throat.

“Urk!” he gasped, noticing that he was indeed running on air…suspended by the hand gripping his collar.

“Going somewhere, sir?” the soft voice asked.

The thief twisted his head, trying to see the girl he knew led the guardians of the city. Blossom smiled frostily at the man squirming in her grip.

“Does no one understand that we’re _supposed_ to be on vacation?” Buttercup snapped, waving one of the man’s cohorts angrily.

The man made gurgling noises as he was shaken. The green-eyed girl glared down at the two thieves she held.

Bubbles giggled nervously as she effortlessly held their getaway van ten feet off the ground.

“Well, it wasn’t like we were very far…we were just coming back from the beach,” she reasoned, squeaking when Buttercup threw her a dirty look.

“So!? It was supposed to be our day off!” The ‘Toughest Fighter’ viciously threw the two thieves into the police truck. “Ugh!”

Blossom calmly gave her crook to the police before rising to her arguing sisters. The bickering duo took no notice of their redheaded leader and instead focused on trying to outdo the other in insults. Buttercup, as per usual, was winning with flying colors.

“Girls,” Blossom said authoritatively. Buttercup and Bubbles immediately snapped to attention. A small smile formed on Blossom’s face before she spoke again. “Let’s do a quick sweep of the city.” She held up a hand to stop the flood of complaints she knew was coming. _“After_ we drop our stuff off at home.”

There were two noises of consent and then three superpowered girls flew off. Minutes later, the three were again in the city, patrolling.

Blossom flew above uptown Townsville, eyes closed as she enjoyed the breeze playing across her face. She could tell that everything was peaceful, a gut feeling she didn’t often follow. Letting herself be a child for a moment, Blossom did a twirl mid-flight, giggling light-headedly. She held a hand to her mouth, trying to cover up the chuckles. It wasn’t very often that she allowed herself to act her age. For some reason, while her sisters could easily go from being on duty to off, Blossom had a harder time. She supposed it was because she was the leader and therefore supposed to be the most alert at all times.

Townsville had been peaceful for a while. True, there indeed was the occasional monster attack and attempt at thievery, but overall, the city was very much peaceful. Blossom wondered briefly when the criminals had started becoming more cautious. Even the so-called “super villains” were highly wary. The Girls hadn’t seen Mojo since July of last year. (Occasional sightings of him buying groceries didn’t exactly count.)

Glancing down at her hand, Blossom supposed that the peace didn’t really start until two years ago, when they were ten. Ironically, it was also the time when they hit puberty. Along with the usual growing pains, the Girls’ bodies finally sprouted the missing features they never had before. Their hands and feet grew fingers and toes and noses and ears appeared on their heads. Their bodies became more proportional and their eyes started taking on a normal look. (They were still larger than the usual, but not as huge as they had been.) It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, either, their puberty; oh no, it had been downright painful. Not to mention that soon after it hit, they received their periods. (Not all at the same time, thankfully for the Professor; Buttercup had been first.)

The whole process had taken a week and a lot of moaning and groaning from the Girls. The Professor couldn’t even give them any pain-killers because their bodies burnt it off so quickly. During the period when Blossom and her sisters were incapacitated, Ms. Keane had been called in to explain what was happening to them and also the infamous talk of the birds and the bees. Bubbles had fainted halfway through and no one knew whether it was the talk itself or just from pain. (Bubbles had been sprouting her toes around that time and both Buttercup and Blossom remembered fainting when their toes had sprouted too.) And in some miraculous coincidence, no crime whatsoever happened. Until after the whole process ended, that was, but that was a story for another time.

So, yes, Blossom’s patrol of Townsville was peaceful. The twelve-year-old girl stretched her arms out and alighted on top of one of the taller skyscrapers. Looking down at the streets, she let out a sigh. She now understood why Buttercup needed a weekly sparring partner. It was enjoyable, yes, having no crime, but at the same time, it was boring. And there were only so many times she could reread the books she owned.

To the pass the time, she had finally gotten the Professor to allow her to join dancing classes, something that she had wanted to do for a while. It was one of the few things that she was better at than her sisters (asides from her smarts). Bubbles was better than her in art and Buttercup was better with sports, but dancing, dancing was something Blossom was the best at.

Blossom sighed again, taking flight. She almost wished a monster would show up or another robbery would happen. Her dance classes were in the evening and there weren’t any recitals going on for a while. It was about now that Blossom wished the Rowdyruff Boys hadn’t disappeared off the face of the planet two years previous. Her fights with the Rowdyruff leader had always been the most challenging and, dare she say it, thrilling. While not the sharpest tool visibly, Brick had often surprised Blossom with how well he could match her strategies. Of course, those strategies of his never really expanded outside when it was only she and he fighting, but nonetheless he could match her extremely well.

_“Well, of course he would, wouldn’t he?”_ she thought, flying towards City Hall. _“Brick was made to be my ultimate match.”_

As she flew towards the meeting place she and her sisters’ had agreed upon, Blossom noticed a sudden shadow appear under her. Alarm bells went off in her mind and the Powerpuff leader rolled onto her back to see a large black ship floating above her. Her mouth dropped open, rosy eyes widening. The ship was shaped like a lily-pad and was black as pitch. Small white-blue lights pulsated across the surface and she quickly moved from under the ship. Floating level with the side, the redheaded preteen flew closer, within reaching distance. As she reached out, placing her palm against the hull, she marveled at how cool it felt, as well as the weird texture. It felt almost rubbery, but strangely nice.

The pulsating lights flocked to her hand and Blossom was mesmerized by the flashing. A part of her mind screamed at her to move, to get away from the spaceship, but her mind was blurry and she felt oddly content. The ship floated on, until it was above City Hall, and stopped, hovering like a lazy bumblebee. The superheroine still stuck to the ship barely registered the flash of light that was immediately followed by screams from the citizens of Townsville. Some part of her knew that she needed to go help, to see what was happening, and as Blossom finally started pulling her hand off the hull, a deep chuckle came from her right.

Expecting to see some super villain, maybe Mojo or Him, Blossom was instantly shocked to see what looked like a humanoid version of the ship standing on the hull. She opened her mouth to demand who he was, but only let out a pathetic whimper. Gritting her teeth, the redhead ripped her hand away from the ship and immediately went into a fighting stance, ignoring the sudden wave of fear that flooded her system. The being simply smiled at her and his teeth stood out with stark contrast against his night sky skin.

“W-Who are you?” Blossom snapped, cursing the stutter that came out. Her fists instantly pulsed with pink light as the alien walked across the hull to her. “Stay back! Why are you here?”

The alien paused, tilting his head before he chuckled again. “I am Aterex and I am here for this world.”

With that said, the alien lunged at Blossom.

The rush of fear that had been building inside her burst out and Blossom shrieked as the alien wrapped his arms around her. As she struggled bitterly against him, blasting and shooting, she looked up into his face. Her eyes suddenly drooped as if she was tired and the last thing she saw was his blazing white grin against the darkness of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 1: Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I originally posted this in 2011, too? The first few chapters definitely came out very fast lol
> 
> Trivia: Mrs. Cavadini’s name comes from Blossom’s voice actor, Cathy Cavadini. Aterex’s name is the combination of the Latin words, ater meaning black and rex meaning king.
> 
> Note: Cryokinesis is the scientific(?) name for ice powers.
> 
> (I'm going to include the trivia that I had in the original FanFiction version as well.)
> 
> **Update 6/21/2020:** Because I am a crazy person, I am going back and revamping the chapters AGAIN. So now corrected POVS, added some more background, and also a new ending scene 👀

The ruins of the once proud city of Townsville were all that she could see whenever she looked outside of her window. Well, that, and the distinctive dark castle and architecture that dominated the area around what had been City Hall. There a new city stood; smaller than what had been the Powerpuff Girls’ home, but still a city. A city of death and darkness and blood, built in a futuristic, yet medieval way with spires and turrets, curved walls and a seamlessness that bordered on organic. It stood for everything that she now fought against; stood for what could happen to her.

The ruler of that city and of the world had taken over so easily. It was awe-inspiring and fear ensuing, how fast and easily he had conquered countries and continents. The army he had used had been huge, a literal planet's worth of soldiers, and they had taken out the other superheroes before crushing their city. Those heroes had been more skilled than she and her sisters. Sure, they had saved them once, but the supermen had had more experience. The Powerpuff Girls may have been superheroes, but they had only been children, only novices. They hadn't stood a chance.

Now, however, Buttercup was the leader of a band of rebels. And she wanted Aterex to pay.

She didn’t remember when she learned the conqueror’s name. She supposed that maybe someone from the Resistance had told her it once. All she needed to know was that Aterex was the number one suspect in Blossom’s disappearance. And her sister had disappeared, not died. No matter what she had screamed at Bubbles those many years ago, she did not believe that Blossom was never coming back. All those patrols she did, all those missions to look for survivors not found by Aterex’s army or the Resistance, Buttercup had been looking for her lost sister.

She had never found her.

But that didn’t mean she was going to stop.

Clutching the coffee mug to her chest, the twenty-year-old ex-superhero looked blankly at the Resistance sergeant sitting at the kitchen table. She still wasn’t sure why the headquarters for her rebellion was located above one of the entrances to the Resistance’s tunnels. She also wasn’t sure why she hadn’t moved; then she remembered that while she was the leader, she still relied heavily on the matronly Mrs. Cavadini, who had taken care of her when she had run away from the Resistance.

Shaking her head, Buttercup pinched the bridge of her nose. She still didn’t understand why the commanding officers of the Resistance felt the need to appear at all hours of the night, instead of a nice, normal hour like, say, one in the afternoon? When she was actually functional?

Blinking blearily, she took a sip of coffee before addressing the sergeant. “Butch, why the _fuck_ did you wake me up when Harry was already awake at the computers?

Butch grinned widely at her, completely oblivious to her irritation. Typical. So was his lazy glance down her body, taking in a black T-shirt that was too big for her and her gray sweatpants. She ruffled her hair, uncaring since she had just rolled out of bed. His eyes glittered at the action and she scowled at him.

As if she would ever give him the time of day.

He leaned back in his chair, his uniform jacket open to expose the tight black shirt he wore under it. Well, if he got to look, Buttercup got to look too, even if she would deny it with the intensity of a thousand suns. Puberty had been very nice to the Rowdyruffs, after all. Eye candy was eye candy, annoying as he was.

“Because I just love you soooo much,” he joked, cackling maniacally at her disgusted face. “Okay, truthfully? I thought you might want to hear what happened on our way back from the battlefield.”

“I swear, if this is another tale of some twisted orgy or shit you did, Butch, so help me, I will choke you with your own trachea and use you entrails to dangle you from the rafters,” she threatened, finally taking a seat across from her ex-archrival.

She slapped away the hand that was trying to swipe her mug, scowling at the pout he gave her. It was three in the morning. There was no way he was getting her coffee.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he answered, waving his hand airily. He leaned forward conspiratorially, resting his head on his fist. “So, as I said, we were heading back from battle. We, of course, kicked their asses, but we had to retreat, Brick’s orders. So, we’re heading back and all of a sudden, we’re ambushed, right? Completely took us off guard. Not to mention, the fucking Powerpunks were leading the charge.”

Buttercup tightened her grip on her mug, reluctantly letting him ease it from her grasp a moment later when it audibly cracked. She hated those rip-offs almost as much as Aterex. Hell, she hated Aterex more than she did Butch and _that_ was saying something. (Not that she exactly hated Butch anymore; they just had a…rough relationship nowadays, no pun intended.)

The sergeant gauged her expression before continuing. “So, yeah, the punks are leading the charge and we’re pretty beat up from the previous battle. But before any shit can go down, this wall of ice appears out of nowhere and suddenly Berserk is blasting off somewhere. Then she comes back and shouts for a retreat.”

Buttercup frowned. Wall of ice?

“That’s it?” she asked, looking up at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “‘That’s it’? Is that all you have to say? I just gave you some evidence that your sister may be alive.”

“There is no maybe, she _is_ alive!” she snapped, slamming her fist down on the table.

The table gave a creak in protest, but stayed stubbornly together. It should, considering it weathered her abuse for six years.

She glared at him, thinking over what he just told her. Could Blossom be appearing now? After eight years?

“Could it have been her?” she mumbled, leaning back and wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t even react when Butch’s eyes dropped to her chest. “Could it have been…?”

Butch looked out of his depth, his mouth twisted in an uncomfortable frown. Rubbing his neck, he looked away from her and she could have laughed. They were so similar when it came to emotions. Buttercup certainly didn't know how to deal with them, other than a good slap on the back, and Butch certainly refused to express anything other than feral bloodlust and mockery. Even if she did catch that awkward softness occasionally, she would bet her left foot that he would eat his own eyeballs before being mushy with anyone.

That was more so their blond siblings' fields. Or…it had been, in her case. Fingers tightened on her arms.

Butch heaved a sigh and the cheesy ass grin was back on his face. He even wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“It was a weird experience, anyway,” he said, shrugging and taking a sip of her coffee. Immediately, he made a face and spat the coffee back into her cup. “Argh. How can you drink this!?”

“What? Black coffee with sugar?” Buttercup asked, pushing away the cup he had placed back in front of her. “Not all of us are coffee snobs, asshole.”

“No wonder you have no fucking taste buds,” Butch muttered, getting out of his chair. He crossed to the fridge and rummaged through it, pulling out a beer. “Ugh.”

“Stop being a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes. She guessed that his bitching was his way of making her feel better and she was kinda happy that he never tried being touchy-feely. One, she hated that and two, if he did do that, he wouldn’t be Butch. “So you guys crashing for the night?”

“Technically, it’s morning,” he pointed out, the beer bottle close to his mouth. “But, yeah, we’ll be crashing here for a bit.”

“That ‘for a bit’ better be only eight hours,” she said, standing. She stretched, yawning widely. “I’m hitting the hay. Thanks for the tidbit.” She paused at the doorway of the kitchen and turned to her counterpart, eyes narrowed. “You stay in the main room. You even _think_ of coming near my room, I will kill you.”

He rolled his eyes and waved her off dismissively, taking a drink.

Not convinced, but too tired to argue, Buttercup walked out of the room. She waved at the soldiers that had practically collapsed about the old library. She felt sorry for them. Not many of them had been soldiers before the world went to hell. Most hadn’t wanted to be in the army or any other military service, but, because of Aterex, many had joined the Resistance to save what little family they had left. Some had joined for the noble cause of retaking the Earth; others were forced.

She had never joined the Resistance; it wasn’t because she didn’t want to take down Aterex. She wanted to take him down even more than she had ever wanted to defeat Butch or Mojo or any of the other villains they had fought. No, she just didn’t want to listen to anyone that wasn’t Blossom.

She barely registered the fact that she had entered her room. Stumbling over to the bed, she collapsed into it and startled the other body there. She curled against his back, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Mmm…what Butch want?” Mitch Mitchelson’s slurred voice asked, rolling onto his back. Buttercup just grunted, snuggling closer. “Mmhm…”

She told her half-awake co-leader what Butch had said. “So he thinks that it may have been Bl-my sister…”

Mitch was silent and she briefly wondered if he had fallen back asleep when he answered.

“It sounds like it,” he said, his eyes still firmly closed as she finally pulled the blanket over herself. “But we have to also take into account the aliens—”

“Have you ever seen any of them have ice powers?” she cut in, frowning against his chest. “I want it to be her, Mitch. I want it to be—”

He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I know, BC, I know.”

Buttercup’s sigh shook as she closed her eyes tightly. She never could say Blossom’s name ever since she had disappeared. Whenever she did, she felt her throat close tightly and the tears press against her eyes. Her sister’s name had become the one thing that for sure could cause her to cry. That was why she never said it anymore, only referred to her as “my sister” or “her”. Because of this, everyone around her stopped using Blossom’s name as well.

She didn’t know if they did it out of pity or just because they themselves had trouble, but she didn’t mind that they stopped using it. However, a few people in the Resistance had the gall to use it towards her and make her say it. That was why she tried her best not to be present when it was Princess Morbucks getting updates from them. The report could have absolutely nothing to do with her and her sisters and the brat would still create a tangled reason for her to say Blossom's name.

Buttercup breathed in deeply, her mind going over what Butch had said. None of the aliens had ice powers. The creatures had almost all the powers that she, her sisters, and the ruffs had: flight, super strength, super speed, heightened senses, and heightened endurance. Besides that, though, she knew that they could control the elasticity of their bodies and become intangible for a limited amount of time. She had once fought an alien that had telekinesis, but it had shortly been decapitated before it could do much damage. (She still argued with Mitch over who had sliced the head off.)

From the stories of random Resistance soldiers, she knew that a lot of aliens had the ability to make psionic weapons like Boomer or else claws like Brat. (She felt herself frown in distaste as she thought the name of Bubbles’ rip-off.) She knew that Boomer had once fought with an alien with terrakinesis, but from no one had she ever heard of an alien having cryokinesis.

So…maybe…

Maybe it was…

Her mind swirled even as she fell to sleep, even as she breathed a silent prayer.

* * *

The next morning, both rebel leaders found Butch’s military unit still camped out in the main room.

Rubbing her temples, Buttercup sighed.

Mitch shared the sentiment. He just never would understand some things. Such was the strange need to hang around their headquarters longer than needed. Maybe it was some kind of dominance thing? Hell if he knew. All he did know was that it was annoying.

His partner immediately took the coffee he offered her and she pushed her damp fringe out of her face.

“So…” he began, sipping his own coffee. “It’s eleven and they’re still here.”

Buttercup considered this before sighing.

“I did give him eight hours.” She did the mental math, frowning. “And he arrived at three…so…his eight hours are basically up.”

He snorted, shaking his head. Butch always did this whenever he came back from the field. He always lounged around until Buttercup forcefully kicked him into the tunnels. If Mitch didn’t know any better, he would have said that Butch hung out longer than needed because of her, but, as it was Butch and the two green-eyed superhumans had a…weird relationship, put bluntly, he really doubted that was the case. Nevertheless, he couldn't help wondering since Butch dallied almost every single time he passed through the library.

Mitch took a sip of coffee to hide the frown on his face. He and Buttercup may only be just friends with benefits now, but he still was protective of her. After all, before any kind of romance, he was her best friend and the closest thing to family she had out here. Sure, the whole of the rebels was like a family, but his bond with Buttercup was special. He, Robin, and Mike were all special. The best friends of the Powerpuff Girls.

Whatever that meant anymore.

He watched as Buttercup disappeared into the kitchen. His eyebrows rose as he took another sip of his coffee, wondering what she was planning. Butch should know better about lazing about. After all, Brick was his superior officer and one would think the green ruff would remember just how wicked his elder brother could be. Then again, Butch had made an art out of poking the bear that was Buttercup, so maybe he was just a masochist. From the instances over the years that Mitch had seen, he was also an artist with poking a dragon so the thought had some merit.

Said puff shook her head as she grabbed a large pasta pot and filled it to the brim with ice-cold water. Her expression was flat as she walked out of the kitchen, balancing the pot on one arm and sipping her coffee with the other. He followed suit and rolled his eyes. So that was her game.

He dutifully held out his hand for her. She placed her mug snuggly into his palm and lifted off the ground. Their fellow rebels were finally catching onto what was happening, Kim hiding her snickers in the map she was going over and Lloyd dutifully spinning on his heel and retreating into the kitchen. The only witness to this beautiful event would be him, it seemed.

She floated over the soldiers until she located their commander. The few soldiers around Butch were given quick nudges to wake them up, the more stubborn ones giving Buttercup a glare. Once they realized that she was carrying a very large pot, though, they compliantly moved out of her way.

"Shouldn't you stop her?" one of the soldiers asked. She looked vaguely familiar, but at this point, all of the Resistance soldiers looked vaguely familiar.

Mitch lifted his left shoulder in a shrug, careful of Buttercup's mug. "She's just having some fun. This is their bonding time."

The soldier gaped at him. Must be a transfer then.

“A-Are you serious?” she stuttered.

“Yup.” He nodded towards his partner and her sergeant. “You’ll miss the show.”

Towering over the prone Butch, a vindictive smile formed on Buttercup's face. Messing with Butch was one of the few pastimes that hadn’t changed over the years (except for that beating-each-other-to-a-pulp-afterward part). She had told Mitch years ago that it was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself anymore. As long as it didn’t involve beating each other black and blue and they could cooperate afterwards, he didn't care how she bonded with the ruff.

Still grinning like a mad woman, Buttercup nudged (read: kicked) Butch in the side. “Wakey, wakey, Butch~!”

A very guttural sound came from the Rowdyruff and a few soldiers made rather undignified noises. She merely raised her eyebrow and looked back at Mitch, who just shook his head. Poking the bear was her game and they had learned that Butch did _not_ like being woken up after the first couple of times this had happened. He just raised his eyebrows back at her and sipped his coffee.

There was his permission.

It would be a nightmare to dry that carpet. He sighed at the thought.

She bit her lip, shoulders trembling from suppressed laughter. Impressively, not a drop of water fell from the pot in her arms as she turned back to the sergeant.

Butch was sprawled on his back, the scrap of fabric that served as his blanket tangled about his legs, limbs thrown about all helter-skelter. Buttercup slept exactly like that, one of the reasons that Mitch didn’t often sleep in the same bed with her. It was hell waking up in the middle of the night to a fist slamming into his stomach.

His stomach muscles clenched at the memory.

“Seriously, Butch, wake up,” she prompted, kicking Butch once more and again receiving a sleepy snarl. “Okay then…”

Without further ado, she dumped the pot of freezing water on top of him.

Mitch had one moment to wince before Butch screamed.

It was safe to say that almost all of the humans in the room nearly ruptured their eardrums, apparently Buttercup included. She rubbed a knuckle into her ear, eyes screwed up in pain. Mitch would like to do the same, but he was holding their mugs like the idiot that he was so instead he shoved the side of his head against the doorjamb. The wood did nothing.

He really should have seen that coming. This wasn’t the first time Buttercup had woken the sergeant with a pot of water, but Mitch was always startled with just how high Butch’s normally deep voice could get. According to Buttercup the first time it happened, he had literally almost reached sonic scream levels of high.

Mitch’s eyes teared from the pain. He blinked rapidly to clear them when he saw Buttercup scowl. She still had her knuckle in her ear, the lucky bitch.

Through his ringing ears, he heard her growl, “Holy _fuck_ , man! That fucking _hurt_!”

Butch rubbed his arms rapidly, dark green sparks flashing off as he tried to warm himself up. Too bad he didn't have Brick's fire. If Mitch’s ears weren’t still ringing, he would feel sorrier, but by this point, he had long gotten over any kind of pity for him.

“W-Well, i-it was y-y-your d-damn idea t-to dump ice cold _water_ on me!” he snapped, teeth clacking together. “Fuck!”

“Oh, stop being such a baby!” she snorted, looking down at him. Her eyes danced maliciously as the ruff wiped water off his face.

“Seriously? Was that _really_ necessary?” He looked highly offended and upset. There was even a pout on his face.

“Your eight hours are up,” she responded flatly. “That means leave.”

Butch frowned as he got to his feet. He then proceeded to shake himself like a dog, splashing her and everyone around them. Complaints erupted from the soldiers, but Buttercup only covered her face with a curse. He grinned cockily once done, arms crossed over his chest.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but her eyes were grudgingly amused. However, instead of commenting on his actions, she simply turned around and walked away. She took her mug back from Mitch, who sighed in relief and dug his knuckle into his ear. It would be ringing for the rest of the day, he was sure of it. If he didn't have tinnitus before, he probably did now.

As Buttercup took a sip of her coffee, he found himself looking towards Butch. The sergeant stared at his partner's back with a confused frown, his head slightly tilted to the side. Well, Mitch supposed that was fair. Buttercup usually had a quip or some kind of comment for the ruff whenever he did…well, anything, honestly.

Butch's story about the ice bothered her more than she was letting on, though. She had been quiet ever since they got up and even dumping water on her counterpart had lacked its usual flair.

The two men's eyes met, Butch still looking confused and Mitch simply rising an eyebrow. Maybe he would get it, realize that his story had hit Buttercup harder than she had let on, but from the frown that pulled down his face when he bent down, Mitch doubted it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. You would think two people who were so similar would be able to read each other, but, well, he was pretty certain the two were too busy holding onto how each other was in the past to realize that both had matured.

Not that he blamed them. Sometimes that was easier.

“There anything I can pass onto the bossman for you?” Butch asked as he pulled on his jacket.

Buttercup paused by the entrance to the kitchen and looked back.

“To Brick? Or Mojo? No, nothing,” she responded, turning around, but she didn’t go into the kitchen. “Give the Professor and…and Bubbles my love, though.”

Mitch mirrored Butch's surprise, staring at Buttercup as if she had spouted a new head.

Buttercup and Bubbles hadn’t spoken to each since the green puff had run away. Hell, this was the first time Buttercup had even told Butch to give Bubbles her greetings. Had told _anyone_ to pass on greetings to Bubbles.

The ice story must have _really_ hit hard.

Mitch frowned and touched her shoulder. She stiffened under his hand.

Sounding dumbfounded, Butch asked, “Say that again?”

“Get the fuck out so I can go on patrol!” she snapped, waving her pasta pot threateningly and making Mitch lurch backwards.

Okay, soft Buttercup was gone now. He winced at Butch. 

Putting his hands up in an ‘I-give’ fashion, the sergeant whistled for his unit to fall into line. The fifty-something soldiers immediately did so and they left through the basement doors.

Mitch watched them, before going into the kitchen. The kitchen was narrow, but long, fitting not only a double sink and two stoves and two ovens, but also a fridge and a stand up freezer. There were multiple cabinets and closets, filled with as much nonperishable food they could scavenge and what little they could barter from Farmsville. The table was a clunky fit in the center, but they made it work.

Lloyd and Kim were sitting at said table, eyeing Buttercup uncertainly as she leaned against the counter. Her shoulders were stiff, fingers curled into tight fists on the linoleum. The air felt tense enough to cut.

Oh yeah. The ice was _really_ bothering her.

Mitch sighed and scratched his head. The things he did as a best friend.

“Y’know, they say sexual tension is never a good thing in the workplace,” he commented nonchalantly, easily avoiding the thrown coffee cup. It lodged itself into the doorframe, cracking the wood. He idly examined it before turning towards his coleader. “What sector do you want?”

Buttercup shrugged before saying, “Sector thirty-three.”

* * *

_She was running._

_Running, running, running._

From what? Her mind was blurry. Black…he wanted her, but why? Who wanted her?

_Gasping, she ran on._

Last night…was it last night? She had helped them, the humans led by the boy, Butch, yes, his name was Butch. Her sister’s counterpart. The dark her, Berserk ( _a shudder_ ), had seen her though. But she was faster, much faster. Berserk wasn’t a match, but she knew, she would tell him.

_Who?_

Aterex ( _another shudder_ ). The creature that took her those years ago…how long ago? Too long, she had grown. Her hair billowed out behind her like a cape and if she weren’t so numb, she would have laughed aloud at the childishness of it all.

_Where was she?_

The tall buildings, shells of a once great city towered above her.

_She looked around, dazed confusion on her face._

The farther she went from Aterex’s city, the less life there was. Sure, there was plant life and the occasional animal, but human life? No, there wasn’t any. There had been humans living among the aliens, but here? The very outskirts of what once was Townsville city? There was nothing.

Shuddering again at the lifelessness, she forged on; passing out of what once was city limits. The air she breathed was nice, delicious almost. She could taste the smoke, the residue of war, but it was free air, air outside of the dark city.

_It was air outside of Aterex’s palace._

Finally, she collapsed. She wasn’t sure where she was or how far she had run, but she knew she was nowhere near the dark city. Gasping breathlessly, she clutched at the thin fabric covering her chest, the shirtdress she had been wearing when she escaped.

_How did she do that?_

She couldn’t remember. Someone helped her. She didn’t want to think though; she just wanted to sleep.

“So…tired…” she whispered, slumping against a sign. She winced as she accidentally pulled on her hair by moving. She looked up at the sky. A pleasant blue just didn’t seem right, but she was too tired to figure out why. “Where are you? Buttercup…Bubbles…”

Closing her eyes, her head fell back as she fell into exhausted sleep. It bumped lightly against the sign, a proud but dingy sign, on which “Pokey Oaks Kindergarten” was written.

The young woman murmured in her sleep, fingers clutching the dirt under her. As if to soothe her of whatever she was dreaming, a pink spark danced across her knuckles, jumping along her arm, across her chest, and then down her other arm.

And it was as if it did soothe her, because Blossom didn’t stir after that.

* * *

Despite her love for flying, Buttercup always patrolled on her motorcycle, Junkie. Junkie was old; hell, it was practically an antique, but she loved it and did as much maintenance on it as she could. (Of course, whatever she couldn’t do, Mitch did, but she tended not to mention that part.) Although it was nearly an antique, Junkie ran smooth as silk and as quiet as a mouse. This was all because of the Professor, in his attempt to keep his middle daughter safe, but it was a great upgrade for Junkie and she wasn’t complaining.

At least it didn’t thunder like Floyd’s did, who just so happened to be accompanying her. Glancing into her side mirror, she watched as the older of the Floydjoydsen twins took note of their surroundings.

Sector thirty-three was in fact the neighborhood around Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. It was usually a quiet area with quite a few neutral survivors. Admittedly, most of those survivors did not enjoy the random patrols the rebels did, but they never did anything to provoke any fights either. They were just trying to survive on what they could scavenge and what little handouts the Rebels gave them. The Resistance had its own people to worry about, which she didn't blame them for being stingy.

As it were, Buttercup found her patrol painfully boring. She had never liked doing patrols, even back when she was younger, but it was something that needed to be done. The Resistance certainly didn’t do patrols. Then again, the Resistance had surveillance equipment and spies scattered all over the world. They really didn't need to do patrols, did they?

Her mouth twisted into a frown as she remembered an incident before the rebellion had really gotten off their feet, back when she was fourteen and _trying_.

_“We don’t need your damn patrols to know what’s going on.”_

The statement had been delivered with a condescending scowl and an uppity crimson leer. Maybe that was why Buttercup had an issue with Brick. Maybe it was because of his arrogance. Sure, she’d admit that he had his moments where she could almost be convinced into trusting him, but he was a jerk and a stoic and looked down on just about everybody. He was fine, as long as he didn’t open his mouth. (Which, thankfully, he usually didn’t, but those stares; phew, they were enough to cripple any narcissist.)

She couldn’t be focusing on the past now, though. One had to be a full alert when driving in the open. You never knew when Aterex would randomly send out a patrol of his own and if one found you, you had better be a damn good actor or you were screwed. No one really knew what happened to the people taken by the aliens.

Thankfully, the skies were clear, with no cloud cover at all, meaning that if an alien ship did pass over the area, they would be able to see it before it saw them.

Buttercup yawned widely, looking around lazily. The houses looked the same as they did years ago, maybe more desolate with overgrown lawns, but they looked pretty much the same. They were somewhere in what had been Pokey Oaks county and she felt nostalgia build in her stomach. How long ago was she flying over this area with her sisters on their way to kindergarten? How long ago was it when they were flying over just to visit Ms. Keane? It was too long ago. So long that it felt like another life.

She tightened her grip on Junkie’s handles. She would never admit it aloud, but she missed her sisters so much. Especially Blossom.

Shaking her head to clear it, she caught sight of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten’s building and almost smiled…until she saw the sign.

She frowned, eyebrows furrowing. Someone was lying against the board limply as if they had just collapsed. Worry fizzled in her chest, as did apprehension. This could be someone in need of actual assistance or it could be a trap.

As the two rebels neared the school, she started seeing the person's features more clearly.

“Hey, is that a person?” Floyd called over the roar of his motorcycle’s engine. Buttercup gave an affirmative and suddenly gunned towards the person. “Buttercup!?”

The green puff skidded to a stop a few feet from the person and jumped from her bike, landing in a running stance. She was instantly by the young woman’s side, looking down at an oddly familiar face. Her heart raced. Her fingers shook when she lifted her hand, but she dared not touch the woman in front of her in case she disappeared in a shimmer of smoke.

The face was shaped like hers, maybe less stressed and softer, but not girlish like Bubbles’. Long red hair spilled around her, making a sort of blanket and nest combo. She was wearing a pale colored shirtdress and her feet wore soft slippers. Her arms were bare save for the short sleeves, but her face kept drawing Buttercup’s eyes.

“Buttercup?” Floyd called softly, moving towards his leader. He stopped just behind her and looked at the redheaded girl in shock. “Is…is that—?”

Buttercup could only cover her mouth, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She nodded and swallowed down the sob she felt building in her throat. Maybe she was still asleep, maybe this was all a hallucination from some rancid canned food. Maybe this was real. _Maybe she didn't have to pretend to strong anymore._

Gathering her courage, she reached out with a shaking hand. She gently touched the girl’s cheek, inhaling sharply as the girl moved her head closer to the soft touch. Her eyelids twitched and then bleary pink eyes were looking at her. A spark of recognition flashed through them, but they shut with a soft sigh of relief as the girl fell back to sleep.

“Butter…cup…” she mumbled wistfully and Buttercup felt a sob escape her throat.

This was real. This was _real_. _She_ was real.

“Blossom…oh, _Blossom_ ,” she gasped and pulled the other woman into her arms. She clutched her to herself tightly, sobbing into her neck. “Blossom, Blossom, Blossom.”

She sat like that for a while, holding Blossom to herself as she sobbed. A dam inside of her broke when she had her in her arms and all she could do was cry.

All those years of wondering, of hoping, of longing, of doubting, and of waiting, those emotions locked up tight inside came out with her tears. Her pain, her determination, her anger and grief and frustration. All swept away with her tears, with the gentle breathing in her arms. She curled around her big sister, stroking her hair and clinging to her like she should have all those years ago.

Gasping softly between her sobs, she was vaguely aware of Floyd watching her. He had never seen her cry, after all, so he must be shocked. Hell, the last time she had cried, had _really_ cried, had been when Blossom had disappeared, eight years ago and the only witnesses to that had been Bubbles and the Professor. She didn't even cry like this in front of Mitch and he was her best friend. 

Poetic that she was crying now that she had found her sister.

After what felt like hours, but could have only been minutes, Buttercup lifted her head. Her cheeks and eyes felt sore and her nose was running something terrible, but she felt ridiculously relieved. Sniffling, she rubbed her eyes quickly.

“We have to get her back to HQ,” she said, standing up and picking Blossom up bridal style. She turned, eyes narrowing at Floyd. “You tell anyone what you just saw, I will _end_ you.”

He nodded quickly and held his hands up, eyes still wide.

Still looking at him suspiciously, Buttercup turned her gaze to Junkie. Where would she put Blossom? She couldn’t very well just tie her to herself and take off…could she?

Minutes later, she was blasting down the street, a rope securely tying her sister to herself. She felt a little silly, what with Blossom being unconscious and _tied up_ , but there was no way she was putting her in the questionable sidecar, which was really a trailer with a seat welded to it, attached to Floyd’s bike. She would rather swallow nails than let any kind of danger come to Blossom now.

The grin on her face couldn't be fought. They had found _Blossom_. Her _leader_! Of all the people that had disappeared that day, her disappearance had hurt the most. They had _all_ felt it. The Rebels, the Resistance, the survivors. Buttercup would bet her right foot that there hadn't been one person who didn't wonder what had happened to her.

Now, though, she was _back_.

Buttercup felt the sudden urge to whoop build in her chest. Instead, she did a wheelie, causing Blossom’s head to lull back and bump against her shoulder as she landed. Wincing a little, she glanced back at her sister, but she didn’t wake up. She sighed in relief and sent a grin at Floyd, who only shook his head in disbelief.

As she turned back to the road, she just caught his worried frown, but whatever the reasoning for it, she didn't care. She was already planning everything that she would do with Blossom now that she was back. Things like patrols, scavenging, and raids. Maybe annoying the Resistance whenever they called or a unit passed through. She felt her grin growing. It was fun messing with the commanding officers, particularly Butch. He had the best reactions.

Sure, she knew that Blossom wouldn’t do any of those things without commentary, but she knew that Blossom’s noble nature would make her help. That she knew for a fact.

And just like that, she was frowning.

Blossom had a noble nature. She would want to help people with all she had. She was always like that, the first to jump in during any kind of situation, the first to lend a hand, the first to try to find a solution. And that could lead her to joining the Resistance. Because as much as the Rebels did, the Resistance had a much greater reach.

Buttercup growled, grinding her teeth. How could she forget that?

“Wait,” she said aloud, causing Floyd to pause. Upon seeing that she herself hadn’t stopped, though, he quickly put his bike back into gear. She narrowed her eyes at the overgrown grasses and foliage creeping onto the street. _“Would Blossom join an organization that many of our old foes were in? Including her counterpart as one of the heads?”_

Her mind now more somber, she was quiet as she and Floyd drove down the roads towards the rundown library.

The building was boxlike and had two floors and a basement. The kitchen had been an add-on sometime in the eighties. There were the typical leonine statues outside the entrance and an annex connected to it by the back. It was here where the two rebels stopped.

Pulling out a garage door opener, Buttercup pressed the ‘Open’ button. What appeared to a wall was actually a door, one of the updates that the Resistance had installed to facilitate their access to the tunnels. Buttercup hadn’t exactly given them permission to do so, but both Mrs. Cavadini and the Professor had insisted so she couldn’t have vetoed it. Besides, it was nice being in contact with the Resistance despite their issues.

The two rebels drove into what had been a storage room, which was now their garage and one of the hidden entrances to the Resistance. Buttercup just tended to ignore the latter.

“Hey, help me untie Blossom,” she called, highly tempted just to break the rope. However, rope was a necessity that was uncommon nowadays, so she curbed herself.

Floyd hurried over to her side and began untying the two puffs.

Blossom murmured against Buttercup’s neck, snuggling closer to her sister when the rope fell away. Even one of her limp hands had grabbed Buttercups' jacket and now clung there.

Said raven-haired woman felt her cheeks heat up at the action and quickly twisted around, grabbing the redhead. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, but when Blossom's head only listlessly rolled, she sighed.

Lifting her and shaking her head, Buttercup floated off Junkie. Her mouth curved into a half smile.

“You are _so_ lucky you’re unconscious, Leader Girl,” she remarked, cradling her close. She looked at her lost sister tenderly. “Where have you been, Blossom?”

“You’re the first back.” Her head snapped up as Harry walked into the room, drinking from what was most likely a very flat can of Coke. The man paused when he noticed that Buttercup’s arms were full. “Whoa. You found some…body…?”

Harry’s voice trailed off as he got closer, eyes dropping to the girl in Buttercup’s arms. He looked so shocked that his arms dropped and his soda began emptying its contents onto the garage floor. His mouth hung agape.

Floyd busied himself with closing the garage door, clearly making it Buttercup’s job to answer. She glared at him before refocusing on the still shell-shocked Harry. Actually, it looked like he was tearing up a little, to which she really didn't know how to react. Harry didn't have any issues showing his emotions, but he was never a _crier_.

Sighing, she opened her mouth to unfreeze him when Floyd squeaked. Two more motorcycles roared into the garage door, parking expertly next to Junkie and Floyd's Monster.

“Locking us out, Floyd?” Mitch called playfully, jumping off his bike. He noticed Buttercup and held up a hand in greeting. “Scavenged some stuff from a Home Depot in sector twenty-five. Mostly nails and stuff, but…”

“It’ll be useful,” Buttercup finished, shifting the still unconscious Blossom.

It appeared as if she didn’t really notice any of the talking. She continued to sleep deeply, curled as close as she could get. A faint shiver had Buttercup giving her a reassuring squeeze, even as she marveled at her ability to sleep. Then again, if she remembered correctly, Blossom always had been a surprisingly deep sleeper…and yet she had been able to wake up immediately if the Hotline went off. A mystery no one had ever been able to solve.

Shaking her head, she looked up when she heard Mitch walk over.

“Wait…is that…?” He paused, looking at her face. She didn't know what her expression was, a mix of apprehension, elation, and worry, she was sure, but his eyes widened and dropped to her arms. His voice sounded reverent as he whispered, “That’s Blossom…isn’t it?”

She nodded, clutching her sister tightly to herself and causing Blossom to murmur in her sleep. She released her grip a tiny bit in response. Again, the tears entered her eyes, but she held them back. There was no way she was going to allow anyone else to see her cry like she did. Least of all Mitch, even if he had seen her at her worst sans tears.

She glared at Floyd as she remembered her little episode earlier. Said twin flinched and hid behind Harry. Narrowing her eyes, she turned back to Mitch.

“Yes, it is Blossom,” Buttercup announced to the garage.

Harry’s eyes, which had already been wide, bulged and Carlos, a man maybe five years older than Buttercup, and whom they had found five years ago, looked awed.

Mitch looked at Blossom thoughtfully for a long moment, the awe slowly ebbing from his face. His cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath, eyes wide, before meeting Buttercup's gaze.

“We’re going to have to tell the Resistance,” he said finally and a chill filled the garage.

Buttercup scowled, feeling her power begin to crackle up her arms. She glared past him as heat pooled in her eyes until she could control it. Her eye twitched and she snarled, but she didn't think she would fry the next person who spoke. All she wanted was to get out of there and hoard her sister away.

Without a sound more, she stomped past them all into the hallway that led to the main building. She knew she had to tell the Resistance. She knew she was acting childishly. But the thought of telling the Resistance…she absolutely knew that Brick would have Blossom dragged to their headquarters to be interrogated.

Burns and bruises flashed in her mind. Ash coated her tongue.

Like hell was she going to let him within a foot of her sister.

Buttercup growled, hearing Mitch’s footsteps behind her.

“I know, Mitch!” she snapped before he could say anything. “I know we have to tell the Resistance! But…But not yet…not yet…” She slowed and stopped, turning to him with watery eyes. Her look was pleading, begging, so unlike her that Mitch stopped in shock, his dark, chocolate brown eyes widening. “I don’t want to share Blossom yet…”

He sighed, rubbing his neck.

“All right, BC, all right,” he finally grumbled, frowning at her. “But we _have_ to tell them sooner or later.”

Buttercup’s expression brightened and she grinned widely. “Don’t worry, _dad_. I’ll tell ‘em when I’m good and ready!”

“‘Never’ is not a choice here.”

“I don’t know where you’d get an idea like that.”

* * *

Blood pooled on the golden floor, sullying the room's elegance and grandeur with its baseness. The filth who bled lay crumpled, bodies broken in his fit of rage, but he could care less. They deserved it for what they had done.

_She was gone_.

A flash caught his eye, a slash of red brighter than the blood on the floor. He snarled and stalked out the door.

"Clean this up," the king growled.

The slave trembled and bowed, but he didn't stay to see them scramble and fret. He knew what his order would be followed. Most weren't so foolish to rebel against him. To _resist_ him.

Two days. He had only left for two days and his prize was _gone_. Two days to visit one of their northern settlements and check on its supplies. Two measly days. And she was gone.

Those _vermin_.

The growl echoed in the empty hall, void of attendants and advisers and soldiers. They had fled during his anger, knowing exactly what needed to be done. He already knew the Powerpunk Girls were on the case. She had been _their_ duty, after all. This had happened under their noses and they had better fix it.

The king's chambers were only a few hallways away, the perfect distance for privacy and to keep an eye on his prize. A prize such as her couldn’t be trusted. He knew all about her, after all, the tales and stories the humans told about her and her sisters. How wily they were, how they seemed to get out of the hardest of troubles.

The Powerpuff Girls

Saviors of this desolate city, mere children compared to the men and women who had tried and failed to stop their takeover. Mere children who had worn crowns of justice and good. His prize in particular cloaked herself in righteousness, carrying the burden of a beacon on such small shoulders.

And now she was gone.

Alone in his chambers, the king dangled the slash of red from his fingers. The curling red of a ribbon, a ribbon that no matter what he did could not be destroyed. Oh, it had faded, as time fades all things, but it stood resolute.

As she had stood resolute.

His fingers curled around the fabric, the rumble of anger building. He would find out where she had gone. He would retrieve her. His empire depended on it.

Those vermin didn’t know the storm they had unleashed.


	3. Chapter 2: Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: The Narcassians come from the planet Narcassia. Narcassia comes from Narcissus, who was a very vain young man from Greek mythology and who scorned love. Aphrodite cursed him to fall in love with his reflection and he became the narcissus flower after he died. Fluffy the hair bunny is from the episode “The Mane Event”.

She was warm on a somewhat stiff bed. It was nice, like Buttercup’s bed. Bubbles’ had always been very soft, like sleeping on a cloud, and Buttercup’s had been on the stiffer side. Blossom’s had been in between those, a balance of that softness of her bubbly sister and stiffness of her combative sister. This bed, wherever she was, felt almost familiar in its stiffness.

As she blinked awake, Blossom felt oddly rested. Her mind was at ease and she felt an odd sense of peace overcome her. She frowned. What was this feeling? It…wasn’t like the strange, twisted numb feeling at…wherever she had been. It was…more positive, more familiar. Eyes falling closed, she smiled as she realized what she felt.

She felt _safe_.

Her eyes snapped open and she bolted up, looking around wildly. Safe? How could she feel safe? An image of a woman with black hair and striking green eyes invaded her mind and she blinked rapidly. That woman…yes, she would know that face…it had matured, aged, but it was still recognizable.

It was still her sister.

It was still _Buttercup._

Blossom felt tears enter her eyes. How long was it since she saw her sisters? It felt like a lifetime ago. It was… She frowned, suddenly realizing she didn’t know how long ago she was captured. She knew she had aged, that was quite clear, but how much she had aged she wasn’t sure.

Eyes closed tightly, she dropped her head into her hands, trying to recall anything from her time captured. Where had she been? Fuzzy memories buzzed just beyond her reach and images of places and people she should recognize danced like ghosts just inches from her fingertips. The more she reached for them, the more she tried to delve through the fog, the more her head began to pound. She gritted her teeth and pressed the heels of her palms into her temples.

_Think! Think!_

_Remember!_

Her head throbbed, but the fog remained. If anything, it got murkier.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention and her head snapped up as an older woman walked into the room.

“Oh! You’re awake!” she said, smiling warmly.

The woman was short, at least as far as Blossom could tell, and had warm gray hair tied up in a bun. She was wearing a light pink cardigan over a white shirt and dark gray slacks. She was holding an old quilt in her arms, a mixture of floral, checkered, and spotted patches in shades of pastel. Her gaze held a warmth that Blossom hadn’t seen in years.

At least...it felt like she hadn't seen it in years.

“How are you, Blossom dear?” the woman continued when she didn't speak up.

“I…ve…bee…bet’r…” she tried to say, but her throat was raw and it came out as a croak. She blinked away the tears of pain that entered her eyes and murmured gratefully as the woman poured her a glass of water.

Turning, the woman brought her the cup. “I’m Mrs. Cavadini. We’ve all been worried about you, dear.”

Blossom looked up at her after taking multiple gulps of water.

“Where…am I?” she asked, but before Mrs. Cavadini could answer, another person walked through the door.

For some reason, she felt her breath catch in her throat. The last time she had seen her, she had been twelve, wearing a green shirt and jean shorts and her hair had been in a bob. She could still see that little girl in the woman before her and she supposed that was one of the reasons why she was crying…because she hadn’t been there as Buttercup grew up.

Buttercup’s hair was now shoulder length and wavy and she had a womanly figure that Blossom shouldn’t have been surprised about. They _were_ the perfect girls, after all. Of course, they would grow into the perfect women. She wore a dark green T-shirt and blue jeans tucked inside beat-up combat boots. So typical Buttercup. Tomboyish and ready to fight.

“Blossom…” Buttercup murmured, looking at her sister with wide eyes. She took a cautious step forward and then she was actually flying at her sister. A gasp escaped Blossom as the full weight of her sister barreled into her. “Blossom! Oh my God, Blossom!”

“B-Buttercup…h-hey…” the redhead gasped, tears now freely falling. She sniffled and returned the bear hug, whimpering. “Oh God, Buttercup!”

She sobbed, clinging tightly to her sister.

“Bloss, do you know how much we missed you?” Buttercup asked in her hair, trembling slightly. “Do you…do you know _hard_ it was—?”

Blossom cut her off, “I can only imagine.”

And that was really all she could do. Imagine. She had never been in that situation. How does one act when one’s sister was taken? When one's _leader_ is taken? That was one of the most important military strategies. Take out the leader and the army falls. But she knew, just knew, that Buttercup had managed to survive…but Bubbles…

“Buttercup,” she said, finally releasing her green-eyed sister. “Where are we? And where’s Bubbles?”

Buttercup paused and shared a look with Mrs. Cavadini that did not go unnoticed by Blossom. Good to see her observation skills were still up to par, even if her mind still felt fuzzy. That, however, she could analyze later.

Hesitantly, Buttercup answered her, “You’re in the Rebel headquarters…basically Pokey Oaks Library and as for Bubbles…um…”

Blossom looked at her and heard her say bitterly, “She’s in the Resistance.”

Frowning, she asked, “What’s the Resistance?”

Silence followed her statement and she looked between the other women in the room, confused by their looks. They looked shocked and bewildered for some reason. Now worried as well as confused, she frowned more deeply. Had she said something wrong? Buttercup herself just said that Bubbles was in the Resistance, so it couldn’t be _that_ bad…could it?

Looking between the two, she began feeling a little irritated. Why weren’t they answering? Was it _that_ bad, whatever this Resistance was?

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked coolly and Buttercup almost winced.

She had forgotten that her elder sister could be impatient at times. Especially when she was asking a question that had a simple answer.

“How do you know about the Resistance?” Buttercup asked instead, crossing her arms.

She was bringing out the rebel leader persona now and was not surprised that Blossom looked perfectly fine. Hey, when your counterpart was Brick and all… However, while her reaction to her mask was no surprise, her knowledge of the Resistance was.

Blossom suddenly appeared bewildered and tilted her head at her.

“You just said that Bubbles was in the Resistance,” she said slowly.

Buttercup looked at her sister with a shocked expression. Had she spoken aloud? Turning to Mrs. Cavadini, she found the older woman looking very confused. That was not the reaction she was expecting. She returned her gaze to her sister, studying her. Well, if she hadn’t spoken aloud…then that would mean—

“Oh!”

Blossom’s gasp interrupted her thoughts and the green puff refocused back on her. The red haired woman was massaging her forehead with her knuckles, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Right…right. I developed a new power,” she murmured. “No… _two_ powers…but the second…”

“Is an empathy link to me and Bubbles,” Buttercup finished, eyes wide. “The other power is…it’s…you can read minds?”

Blossom nodded, looking up at Buttercup. “Yes. Telepathy. He was even more afraid of me after that. He needed to control me more…”

“Who did, dear?” Mrs. Cavadini asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The look on Blossom’s face was something Buttercup had never seen before. Those rosy eyes looked blank and glassy, like she had lost all hope. She was trembling slightly and as Buttercup took her hand, she could feel the clamminess of Blossom’s palm. That hopelessness, that _despair_ , did not belong on her face. Not her proud sister.

Buttercup felt her heart contract painfully. Blossom was afraid. And if Blossom was afraid, Buttercup had no idea how she would react to it.

“Who took you, Blossom?” she asked gently.

She was struck breathless as a wave of emotions that were definitely not hers hit her. Fear, anger, reluctance, and panic flooded her senses and she was left panting as the tidal wave of feeling ebbed.

“Sorry,” Blossom murmured, feeling her reassurance. “I…that…” She sighed, closing her eyes. She would not be afraid. She was the leader of the Powerpuff Girls. She was not afraid of some alien. So why couldn’t she say his name? “It was…it was A-Aterex.”

At that, Blossom’s eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed her head as memories flooded her mind. They weren’t clear or whole, but the bits and pieces were enough to leave her gasping.

_“The drug metabolized already!”_

_“Already!? It’s been barely two months!”_

_“Give her more!”_

_“Aren’t you my pretty little pet?”_

“NO!”

“Blossom!” Buttercup gasped, again left breathless from Blossom’s emotions.

Said girl was curled into a ball, holding her head. She kept murmuring ‘no’ and trembling uncontrollably.

Buttercup hovered over her elder sister, literally floating above the bed and looking down at her unsurely. It was one thing to reassure another rebel. It was an entirely different thing when the one shaking in fear was once her beloved leader.

Voice quietening, she murmured, “Blossom…it’s okay. He can’t get you.”

_“That’s good, my pet…_

_“You’ll be mine! Mark her, slave!_

_“There’s my pet~. How pretty you are._

_“Haha! Your punks can’t stand up to her!”_

Buttercup was now hugging her. “Blossom, can you hear me? He can’t get you! You’re _safe_!”

It was as if she had said a magic spell. Blossom stopped trembling and she slowly removed her hands from her head. She looked up at her with an unsure and watery look.

Buttercup gave her a confused look back, but a small smirk pulled up her mouth as she said, “I’d never thought _I’d_ be the one comforting you, Leader Girl.”

Immediately, Blossom blushed and she pushed Buttercup away. Her sister didn't go very far, adamant to stay close after her episode.

“I-I’m fine!” she snapped.

She knew by the amusement she could feel from Buttercup that her raven-haired sister knew she was just saying that. Saying Aterex’s name had caused her to revert to the fetal position. Her bottom lip quivered. She couldn’t lead her sisters if she couldn’t even say the enemy’s name.

“Weak…” she mumbled and Buttercup looked at her in confusion.

“What?”

Blossom’s head shot up, her eyes wide.

“N-Nothing. S-So, w-what is the Resistance?” she asked, returning the conversation back to its original topic. “And why is Bubbles there?”

A pointed look was added to the question. Buttercup sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“The Resistance is an organization set up by your father and assorted others to take down Aterex,” Mrs. Cavadini explained, smiling softly. “Bubbles…ah.”

She looked at Buttercup and the green puff sighed again.

“I…didn’t join the Resistance because I refused to listen to anyone that wasn’t you,” Buttercup said, not missing the look on Blossom’s face. It was like a cross between surprise and indulgence. “A-Anyway! I…I ran away from the Resistance after…saying some… _harsh_ things to Bubbles.” Here she bit her lip, shaking her head. “I should have never done that, but…I…”

Blossom gently reached out, taking her hand. She looked at her sister sympathetically. It was her fault that everything degraded so much. If she hadn’t let herself get caught by Aterex…

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, causing her sister to look at her in confusion.

“Why?” the green puff asked. “You didn’t do anything.”

Blossom shook her head, trying to keep the tears back. “No. It’s my fault! If I hadn’t…If I hadn’t let Aterex sneak up on me, if I hadn’t gotten so close to the ship, the Narcassians wouldn’t have gotten me!”

Her outburst was followed by silence.

Buttercup scowled. She would even ignore the fact that Blossom knew the proper name for the aliens. (Of course, she knew the proper name. That shouldn’t surprise her.) But it was not Blossom’s fault. Opening her mouth to shout at her sister, Buttercup froze as Mrs. Cavadini cleared her throat. Dark blue eyes told Buttercup to behave and the old woman stood, gently touching Blossom’s arm.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, dear,” she said, smiling in her matronly way. “I’m sure we have some clothes that may fit you lying around.”

It was clear what Mrs. Cavadini was doing and Buttercup frowned as she landed lightly next to her. She glared as the old librarian helped her sister out of bed.

Clutching the woman, Blossom stood unsteadily, looking at Buttercup sadly. She had made her mad. She didn’t need the empathy link to know that.

Mrs. Cavadini took Blossom’s hand and led her out of the room. Buttercup didn’t follow, but Blossom knew her sister was upset. The mix of feelings she was getting from her made it clear, but what could she do? It was her fault. She had been careless. If she hadn’t been careless, maybe none of this would have happened.

Shaking her head, she tightened her grip on Mrs. Cavadini’s hand. The older woman led her into a room that looked like a locker room. Glancing around, she almost didn’t notice when Mrs. Cavadini led her into a yet smaller room.

The room was a little square-like room with green tile around the tub and olive painted walls elsewhere. There was a sink by the door and toilet in the corner with a stool shoved under the sink. Hanging from the ceiling were two uncovered light bulbs that cast a surprisingly clear light on the room. Above the tub was a more yellowish light.

“Why does the library have a locker room? And a bathtub?” Blossom asked, sitting down on the stool.

“I’m not sure myself actually,” Mrs. Cavadini remarked, rolling up her sleeves. She turned on the hot water and let the tub fill.

Blossom watched the woman, playing with her near ankle length hair. “Mrs. Cavadini…how long have I been gone?”

The elder woman paused in what she was doing and turned to look at her. “You’ve been gone eight years, dear. You didn’t know?”

Blossom’s mouth went dry.

“It…was hard to keep track of time…” she murmured.

Eight years. She had been captured for eight years. More dizzying memories inundated her mind, but they were only clips. Nothing solid, nothing worth mentioning. But she had been gone for eight years. No wonder Buttercup had been so happy to see her. Nearly a decade lost.

She held her head. She couldn’t believe it. How could she have allowed this to happen?

_“You’re weak.”_

She bit her lip. A memory, not of Aterex or her time taken, but of before that, from when she was about nine. It was a memory of a battle between herself and Brick. It had been one of their bloodier fights, each being in a foul mood before it had taken place. He had plowed her into the ground within minutes and floated above her, scowling down. He had said those words with such contempt. It wasn’t her fault that Buttercup had accidentally ruined her school project, leaving her unfocused. Blossom would have bet that Butch had tried again to usurp Brick’s position and that had been what had caused Brick’s mood. (That year Butch had an odd fantasy that he could lead the Rowdyruffs. Brick had not been very happy at all that year.) 

_“He was right…”_ she thought weakly, not noticing Mrs. Cavadini walking towards her. _“I am weak…”_

She jumped when Mrs. Cavadini placed a hand on her shoulder. The older woman looked at her in concern before smiling.

“Is everything all right?” she asked and she nodded with some reluctance. Mrs. Cavadini narrowed her eyes, knowing that she was lying, but she didn’t press the girl. Instead, she said, “Would you like me to cut your hair?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Blossom nodded, blushing faintly as Mrs. Cavadini gently touched her hair.

“Well, let’s get you washed first, okay?” The librarian gently pulled her to her feet and helped the girl undress.

As she stepped into the tub, Mrs. Cavadini held her hair for her, her arms pilled with the auburn locks.

Blossom sat down in the lukewarm water, pulling her knees to her chest. She froze when Mrs. Cavadini covered her eyes, not expecting the action. Vague memories suddenly flooded her mind, but she mentally shook her head. She was safe here. She just had to remind herself of that. She was safe. She wasn't with… _him_. She shivered when water was dumped over her head, dampening her long hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed as Mrs. Cavadini washed it, massaging the shampoo into her scalp and locks.

Letting her mind wander, she tried to remember her time in the palace, but it was still very blurry and she convulsed abruptly, scaring the librarian washing her hair. She murmured an apology and received a reassurance before the older woman continued working on her hair. Remembering her time captured was out, not if Blossom wanted another seizure. Instead, she decided to puzzle over what Buttercup could possibly have said to keep Bubbles and her from talking for eight years. (Buttercup may not have said it, but Blossom knew that neither had spoken to each other. You could call it sisterly intuition.) Whatever her green sister could have said would have had to be extremely harsh, harsher than normal.

A leaden weight seemed to fill her heart. Her sigh sounded melancholy to her own ears.

She was sure it had been about her.

“Close your eyes, dear,” Mrs. Cavadini said and Blossom just had time to close them before water was dumped on her.

This happened a few more times until Mrs. Cavadini was satisfied that that shampoo was out of her hair. She then started with the conditioner.

What could’ve Buttercup have said? Blossom frowned into her arms, looking at the mint green tiled walls unhappily. It was probably something about her not returning. Biting her lip in thought, she tightened her grip on her knees. That was most likely it. Her sister most likely said that she was never coming back. But Bubbles wasn’t one to hold a grudge. So why would…?

She squeezed her eyes shut before Mrs. Cavadini dumped a bucket of water on her.

“Would you like me to wash your back?” the elder woman asked kindly and Blossom felt like a small child again.

She was twenty years old, for heaven's sake! Even if she felt more like the twelve-year-old she had been all those years ago. Nonetheless, she murmured her consent and accepted the sponge handed to her.

It was as she was washing her arms that Mrs. Cavadini gasped. Blossom’s hair was thrown over her shoulder, giving the other woman access to her back.

She paused in her washing to turn around. “Is something wrong?”

Mrs. Cavadini looked up at her, blue eyes wide.

“Blossom,” she murmured in a hushed voice. “What happened to your back?”

Bewildered, Blossom attempted to look at her back in vain.

“I don’t—”

Her eyes widened as another memory hit her.

_“Mark her, slave!”_

She gasped, clutching her chest. Mrs. Cavadini gripped her shoulders looking anxious. “Blossom? Blossom!”

 _She was in a dark room. Her vision was so blurry. Her head felt heavy and fuzzy, as if cotton balls were stuffed inside. She heard_ his _voice and whimpered. He was telling someone to mark her…something about being his. She wasn’t sure. It was so hard to focus. But she knew that she wasn’t going to be his. No. She would never allow that. Someone was whispering to her, muttering reassurances. Her mind, once fuzzy, flashed red. Then pink. Red. Pink. Red, pink, red, pink, red, pink, red, pink, red, pink. The whispering voice gasped quietly and more reassurances came. Red. Pink. Redpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkredpinkred_

_Red…_

_Pink…_

_Eyes?_

Mrs. Cavadini held Blossom’s shoulders as the girl shook. She was holding her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as the memory left her breathless.

Those marks on her back meant something…something special. Why did she see red randomly as well? Pink obviously must mean her. It was _her_ color, but what did red symbolize? Unwittingly, a memory of a short, cap-wearing boy appeared in her mind and Blossom furiously shook her head. Red didn’t always have to symbolize _him_ , did it!? This time the memory was of an unwelcome lobster demon and she made a strangled noise.

 _“Really, mind? Really?”_ she thought darkly, slowly removing her hands from her hair.

“I…was marked,” she said, moving a hand over her shoulder to try to touch it. “I…don’t remember what it means though…”

She sounded frustrated and Mrs. Cavadini looked at the girl in front of her with wise eyes. This girl had experienced so much in her life. In actuality, the girl was only fifteen, but, then again, she had been born at five years of age. Even still, Blossom had witnessed and lived through so many things that a normal person couldn’t handle. So many things she had experienced and had not gone insane.

Mrs. Cavadini knew that she wouldn’t have been able to remain sane after so much. How did this girl, this proud girl, remain sane after so much? She had had her biggest fear thrown in her face, an evil monkey take advantage of her, had her life nearly taken by a boy who could be her twin.

And now that proud girl was trying to piece together an experience that had trumped all of those.

“Post-traumatic stress disorder.” Mrs. Cavadini jumped as Blossom voiced what the librarian had been thinking. “That…fits. Yes. Amnesia can set in when someone doesn’t want to remember a traumatic experience.”

“You are quite smart, Blossom,” she remarked, smiling indulgently as she continued washing the young woman’s back. They remained quiet for a few moments and Blossom was just starting to wash her legs, frowning at their hairlessness, when Mrs. Cavadini spoke again. “Are you planning on joining the Resistance?”

Blossom paused in her washing, biting her lip in indecision. Her nature told her to join, but she knew Buttercup would want her to stay and be a rebel. She knew the reason behind Buttercup’s refusal to join the Resistance and that struck her. Buttercup had never expressed liking her as a leader, even if she hadn't really fought much for the position since they were five. To hear that she had refused to join a literal planet saving organization because she would have to listen to someone else gave her mixed feelings.

Sighing softly, Blossom continued her washing, still thinking over the question.

“I…don’t know,” she answered finally, gripping the sponge tightly. “If…If I do join, I’m sure I can shoot up through the ranks and get a high enough position so that Buttercup might want to join…”

Mrs. Cavadini frowned and thought darkly, _“Not with Brick and Mojo as head officers.”_

“What!?” Blossom gasped, startling the elder woman as she whipped around. “Brick and Mojo are part of the Resistance!?” Her pink eyes were wide and she stared down at the soapy water in shock. “I would have thought…but…they’re… _head_ officers?”

Mrs. Cavadini sighed, ringing out her sponge and filling a cup with water.

“Yes…many villains joined the Resistance if you can believe it,” she answered, urging Blossom to turn around. “Mojo, the Rowdyruff Boys, and Princess Morbucks are just a few.”

Dropping her head into her hands, the young woman bit back a groan. There was no way Brick would just let her join the Resistance. If he was anything like her, he would give her the fifth degree and even then, he still wouldn’t let her in. She would be little better than a civilian, not even. She grumbled darkly and ran her fingers through her hair. There was absolutely no way she would join then.

A part of her felt upset at that aspect and another part praised her on her sense of self-preservation. After all, how did she know that Brick wouldn’t just attack first and ask questions later? And if Blossom’s power had grown tremendously in that time wherever she had been…then Brick’s… She shuddered helplessly, flashing back the time when he was resurrected.

There was so much that she didn’t know about the lives of her loved ones. She thought about this as Mrs. Cavadini helped her get out of the tub and dried off. How much had the changed? And how would they react to her reappearance?

Clutching a large dark brown towel around herself, she suddenly remembered the markings on her back and looked towards the matronly woman digging through the cupboard about the toilet. Sitting on the stool, she was shorter than Mrs. Cavadini (who only reached maybe five-two) and she actually had to look up to voice her plea.

“Mrs. Cavadini…could you not tell Buttercup about the marks on my back?” she asked and the librarian frowned, turning her head.

She pulled scissors, a comb, and a hairbrush out of the cabinet before she sighed softly. Her smile felt reassuring as she nodded once.

“Of course, dear. If that’s what you want,” she responded, walking around behind her.

As Mrs. Cavadini began brushing her hair in rhythmic strokes, Blossom flashed back to the times when Bubbles would do the same thing. Eyes fluttering closed, she let her mind wander back to those times, pretending that Mrs. Cavadini’s strokes were Bubbles’. It was pleasant, pretending for a moment that everything was normal, that she was twelve again and she was in her room and her “little” sister was brushing her hair. The dull throb in her chest reminded her that if she hadn’t been so careless, then that would be a reality, but as she had been careless…

Blossom gritted her teeth, angry with herself as she remembered how often she reprimanded Buttercup for being reckless.

It took a while for Mrs. Cavadini to brush and comb all of Blossom’s hair. That whole time she sat and beat herself up and forced herself to remember, but she couldn’t remember much besides the faint clips she already had. For some reason, her mind kept traipsing back to the marks on her back. She really wanted to know what they meant and what the color red had to do with them. They were important, especially when she remembered Aterex telling whoever to mark her as _his_. Red and pink meant _something_. They had to.

Blossom clutched the towel tighter, eyes fluttering open as soft footsteps came into the room. She smiled hesitantly at Buttercup who dumped some clothes in the sink.

“Okay, I can’t guarantee anything will really fit, seeing as I have _no_ idea what size you are,” Buttercup said, crossing her arms, “but I didn’t risk grabbing a bra.” Blossom opened her mouth, blushing furiously, to complain, but Buttercup cut her off. “I _did_ get you a camisole, though. Hopefully that’ll fit okay.”

Blossom made a noise in her throat, a cross somewhere between consent and indignation, and glared at her sister. She really didn’t want to delve into what Buttercup may be implying with that and glanced quickly at the clothes. Hopefully the green puff had also grabbed underwear for her.

Buttercup only smirked in response, moving her attention to Mrs. Cavadini who was now wielding the scissors.

“What’re you doing with those?” Buttercup asked, her voice hushed in terror.

By her tone, one would think that Mrs. Cavadini was threatening to slice Blossom’s throat (not that it would work, but I digress).

Mrs. Cavadini gave her a strange look, which was mirrored on Blossom’s face.

The librarian looked curiously at the scissors and then back up at Buttercup before answering slowly, “I’m going to cut Blossom’s hair, Buttercup…”

“No-no-no-no, Blossom has to have long hair.” Buttercup uncrossed her arms, moving closer.

She couldn’t see Blossom without the long locks she had ever since they were created. In fact, her sister herself never had any other kind of style. It was always long.

Blossom groaned, somewhat surprised (and flattered) about Buttercup’s earnestness. She never realized that Buttercup liked her long hair. She had supposed that the green Powerpuff wouldn’t have cared about that. After all, Buttercup’s hair was down to her shoulders now, instead of the bob she had for most of their childhood. Shaking her head, she smiled indulgently at her sister.

“It’s _too_ long, Buttercup,” she said softly, shifting on the stool. “It reaches down to my ankles!” The look of horror was still on Buttercup’s face and Blossom bit her lip to keep her laughter in. “I _was_ going ask Mrs. Cavadini to only cut it to waist length, anyway. I’m used to that length.”

Buttercup muttered something about Blossom having near ankle length hair when they were five, but nodded finally, conceding to the waist-length proposal.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets, feeling a silky material in one. Frowning in confusion and then resisting the urge to slap herself, Buttercup pulled on the material. It was a dark red color, somewhat faded and a little torn, but it had the recognizable shape of that of a thick ribbon. She rubbed the material between her fingers, before holding it out to Blossom. The redhead blinked in confusion and slowly reached out to take it, keeping the towel wrapped firmly around her.

As Buttercup dropped the ribbon into her outstretched palm, Blossom felt a small burst of satisfaction from her sister. The ribbon, as she gazed at it with a feeling of remembrance, was exactly like the ones she used to wear. Rubbing the material softly, Blossom felt a small warm feeling in her stomach. It _was_ one of her ribbons.

Blinking in an attempt to keep the tears in, she sniffled softly, smiling at the ribbon as if it were an old friend. She chuckled softly at the analogy. What other surprises did Buttercup have in store for her?

“Thanks, Buttercup,” Blossom said…only to realize a second later she hadn’t spoken aloud.

“No prob,” Buttercup responded and Blossom stared wide-eyed at her as Mrs. Cavadini stopped in her cutting.

“Come again?” she asked, frowning at the rebel leader. Buttercup looked at them in confusion.

“What? What I say?”

Blossom frowned, brow furrowing.

“I forgot. My telepathy not only allows me to read minds, but also allows me to project my thoughts into someone else’s mind,” she recalled, rubbing her lips thoughtfully. “If I remember correctly, I can project my thoughts into a limit of two people’s minds simultaneously. And that’s the limit of my power: reading and projecting my thoughts.”

Buttercup cocked her head, looking at her sister. “Ah, well, y’know ol’ Bricky boy will think you can control minds, too. If, y’know, we tell the Resistance about you and all…”

Giggling at the nickname for her counterpart, Blossom smiled at her sister in an incredulous way. “You have to tell the Resistance, Buttercup. You can’t keep my existence a secret.”

“Why not?” Buttercup asked, fighting the pout she knew was threatening to appear on her face. The smile on Blossom’s face made her grumble in defeat. “I know, I know.”

“Sooner or later, someone will slip up and say something,” Blossom reasoned. “Not to mention if one of the Resistance visits for some reason.”

All was quiet except for the snipping of the scissors. Buttercup was now full on pouting, knowing that Blossom was right. She just didn’t want to tell the Resistance, not only for the reason she told Mitch, but also because she wanted to protect Blossom.

After eight years, Blossom shows up and claims that she can’t remember where she’s been? Oh, yes, that’ll go down well with Brick. See, it wasn’t Mojo one had to please at the Resistance, it was Brick, and Buttercup knew that Brick was as paranoid as Blossom was. She didn’t want Blossom being questioned about where she had been and her trustworthiness. It was one thing she was certain that Brick would do.

The green puff jumped when she noticed Blossom looking at her with a curious expression.

“…I should be ripping you a new one about trusting me so quickly, shouldn’t I?” she remarked, looking amused. “I really should, but…” There was a soft smile that Buttercup knew meant that Blossom wasn’t going to do anything. “But I’ll let it slide because I’m happy that you do trust me despite all that’s happened.”

“Hey, those Resistance bastards are suspicious enough for both teams,” Buttercup said, shrugging. “Why should I be suspicious of someone who would fight tooth and nail if anyone tried to control her?”

Blossom smiled warmly at her sister and Mrs. Cavadini announced that she was finished. Placing the scissors down, the older woman put her hands on her hips, looking down at the large pile of hair at her feet. The look on her face was one of utter perplexity.

Buttercup also dropped her gaze down to the pile of auburn locks and raised an eyebrow. Noticing the look of amazement on her sister’s face, Blossom followed her gaze and winced a little bit. There was probably a reason why her hair had been allowed to grow to such a length.

“So…what are we going to do with nearly three feet of hair?” Buttercup asked finally, still looking at the pile of hair. “Burn it?”

“Unless you’re going to make Fluffy the hair bunny,” Blossom remarked, giving her sister a look. Buttercup snorted in response, grinning widely.

“Or a racetrack?” she said, receiving an annoyed look from the redhead. “Okay, burning it is.”

After a few moments dillydallying, Buttercup finally left the room, grumbling about Blossom’s hair, which said redhead found highly amusing. Hadn’t the green puff just been complaining a moment ago about Blossom’s hair being cut?

As Mrs. Cavadini closed the door, Blossom stood, still holding the towel around her. She pawed through the clothes Buttercup brought, frowning at the selections. Of the clothes there, there was a red plaid button down shirt, a white camisole, some jeans, a belt, a pair of underwear, and some socks. A sigh escaping her mouth, Blossom raised an eyebrow at the lack of footwear. She had only been wearing thin silken slippers when she escaped, which weren’t of much use outside of the house. Thankfully, her body was highly durable so the soles of her feet were fine, but even still. Just socks?

Shaking her head, Blossom proceeded to get dressed, finally allowing the towel to drop. For some reason, she felt self-conscious, even though Mrs. Cavadini had just helped bathe her, and tried to ignore the other woman. Thankfully, she was looking the other way and Blossom let out a small sigh of relief. Grabbing the underwear and camisole, she pulled the two articles of clothing on. She dressed quickly and frowned down at the pants she was wearing. They were a little too big and Blossom was impressed by Buttercup’s foresight at grabbing the belt. She still wondered why she only had socks though.

“Would you like me to tie your hair up?” Mrs. Cavadini beckoned for the pink puff to sit and, doing so, Blossom felt herself relax as the deft hands began brushing her hair again.

_Knock, knock._

The door began opening and Buttercup popped her head in.

“Everyone decent?” she asked as she came in.

This received a raised eyebrow from Blossom as Mrs. Cavadini just chuckled and shook her head.

A few moments later, Mrs. Cavadini finished (“There”) and Buttercup was dragging Blossom out of the bathroom and down the hall. Blinking in confusion at how she got into this predicament, Blossom looked around at the hall, which she noticed was becoming a little wider and the tiled floor suddenly gave way to industrial carpeting. She attempted to question where they were going, but Buttercup just shushed her, refusing to answer any pestering.

Her sister continued to drag her around until they reached what had to the ground floor for the adult section of the library. In the middle of the room, where the information desk would have been, tables had been pushed together and Blossom stared, trying to comprehend what she was looking at. It looked like some kind of feast or party and she turned to her sister, in an attempt to understand the sight.

“Surprise?” Buttercup said when she noticed Blossom’s gaze. “Well, y’know. It’s a welcome back party…I guess…”

Shaking her head, Blossom looked at the table with a small smile on her face. There were maybe thirty people present and there were faces that she’s recognized. There was Mitch and Harry and the Floydjoydsen twins and Kim and a few other people she recognized. And then there were others she wasn’t quite sure about, but Blossom supposed that Buttercup would introduce her in due time. Looking at their faces, she noticed that none, for some reason, showed fear. A knot formed in her stomach and Blossom felt tears prick her eyes yet again.

“You…didn’t have to…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and squeezing Buttercup’s hand.

“I guess I didn’t have to,” Buttercup conceded leading her closer. She turned to Blossom and smiled at her in that soft way that she reserved only for her sisters and children. “I wanted to.”

As they stopped in front of the table, a series of shouts and gasps aroused. Many rushed forward to Blossom, giving her hugs and pats on the back. Kim even came and, taking her hand from Buttercup’s, lead her to a seat at the head of the table.

Blossom felt her cheeks warming as she sat and, watching the others seat themselves, felt the familiar warmth in her chest. Gently clutching the fabric above her heart, Blossom smiled at the people gathered. She knew this feeling, knew it well. It was the feeling that the Professor and her sisters had brought many times before. The warm feeling made her feel at home.

And that’s exactly where she was.

She was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely meant to get this edited, like, two weeks ago, but I got distracted by fanfiction lol  
> Oops?  
> I hope you enjoyed! I'll try to get the next chapter out faster, since the first nine or so chapters are already written. They just have to be brought up to my current writing standards.


	4. Chapter 3: Know Her Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: Writing Ace's accent is a bitch.  
> Note: Aerokinesis is the scientific(?) name for the ability to control air and wind. Also, I can't write battle sequences to save my life. Hopefully it isn't too bad.
> 
> Got two done in a day, I'm a roll! Please enjoy the updated chapter 4 of Storm!

It had been three weeks since Buttercup had found Blossom and the redhead was doing her best to adapt to her new lifestyle. It was somewhat difficult to do so, as her mind was still set some eight years previous, though she _knew_ that they all had aged. She tried her best not boss Buttercup around and then there was the fact of having to get to know people she had previously known very well. Sure, there were people she didn't know, like Jocey, a black girl who had been friends with Buttercup before the invasion and had become very good friends with her over the past eight years, but many she had known and it felt strange that she had to get to know them all over again. It was hard trying to find a place in an already established social hierarchy. Where did Blossom stand? She had been the leader, but now, after having reappeared after eight years, what was her place?

Buttercup was the leader of the Rebels and Mitch was her co-captain. Harry was the communications officer. Floyd and Lloyd were mainly patrol, Kim was mainly a scavenger, Jocey was artillery. Their places were clear and everyone else just fell into those that needed filling. Blossom had no such place. For the most part of the three weeks, she would help out random people with their jobs, but she was usually found reading books and catching up on the education she had missed. By the end of the third week, she had pretty much read all the books in the library, which, as she had learned from Mrs. Cavadini, had been severely depleted because the Resistance took most of them.

In fact, Blossom was currently sitting in a chair on the second floor, flipping through a battered copy of _The Last of the Mohicans_ when she heard a familiar and distinctive voice. She looked up, frowning in surprise, and floated from her perch. Gliding over to the railing, she looked down to see a head of greasy black hair talking with a mildly unhappy Buttercup.

Resisting the sudden urge to groan, Blossom went back to seat and continued to skim her novel. Hopefully, the Gangreen Gang would leave soon.

"Aw, c'mon, Butters! We foun' some really awesome shit!"

Blossom rolled her eyes at Ace's futile attempts to get Buttercup to accept whatever they had found. This was the fifth time in her stay with the rebels that the gang had appeared. They always found 'some really awesome shit' whenever they came. From what Kim said, it was a pretty common happenstance.

And Buttercup respond with the same disdain each and every time.

"Ugh. What is it _this_ time, Ace?" Buttercup's voice floated up from below and Blossom was tempted to look again. "And _don't_ call me 'Butters'."

She didn't risk it, however, in case one of the gang looked up. They had decided to keep her existence a secret from everyone that wasn't a rebel, after all, against her better judgment. As much as she wanted to see the Professor and Bubbles again, she understood Buttercup's hesitance. Her memories from her time captive were still fuzzy, after all, and that would raise too many red flags until she could remember something more solid.

Therefore, the Gangreen Gang had no idea that she was alive.

"We'ssss not sure youssss can usssse it, but it'ssss cool," Snake said, receiving a resigned sigh from Buttercup.

"All right, let's see it," she responded and Blossom felt her curiosity spark when a wave of surprise came from her sister.

_"Blossom."_

Looking up from her book, Blossom looked around in confusion, before realizing that the call had come from her mind. Blushing, she leaned back in her chair and answered her sister cautiously.

 _"Did you call, Buttercup?"_ she asked mentally, frowning down at the book that no longer held her attention.

A small burst of awe came from Buttercup before she received an answer.

_"I think…I think the Gangreen Gang found a piece of your ice wall from three weeks ago."_

Shock immediately flooded her and her eyes widened. Her ice had lasted _three weeks_? She knew the wall she had created to protect Butch's unit had been big, sure, but she hadn't expected it to last very long. Besides, when she had made it, it had been the middle of July!

A sharp pain stung her temple causing her to grab her head. She rubbed it, frowning as a memory vaguely came back. It was too blurry to be of much use, but she could feel the cool chill of her cryokinesis on her palms and was startled to find that she had slightly frosted her novel. Gently brushing the frost off the pages, she tried to gather the strings of the memory while trying to piece together why her ice had lasted so long.

_"…it's…per…ost…"_

That statement was from her most recent recollection, another puzzle piece that was extremely ambiguous. She didn't know the voice; hell, she couldn't even hear the voice that well. For all she knew, it could be herself saying it, it was so garbled. She had no idea what the statement should say. It was something…but what was what?

Sighing, her head lulled back, hitting the back of her chair. Her amnesia was annoying. If there was one thing she hated, it was not knowing something. She hated having that helpless feeling. She prided herself on her intelligence. Not knowing something felt like an insult. But what was she to do? She had amnesia and she wasn't even sure she wanted her memories back. Her indecision made her irritated. She had always hated indecisive people. However, that wasn't what the problem was here.

Where had the proud and strong Blossom gone?

Meanwhile, Buttercup at this time was turning the rather large chunk of ice over in her hands. The block was still cold to the touch and, for some reason, there wasn't much perspiration on the surface. She had to remove her hands at certain points because her skin was actually freezing to the surface of the ice. She glanced up to the second floor, knowing that Blossom was curled up somewhere up there, and wondered briefly how she was handling the news.

"So? This is, like, proof that yer sista's alive, right?" Ace asked, fixing his sunglasses.

Buttercup snorted, rolling the chunk in her hands again.

"I guess this _is_ better proof then just a story," she admitted reluctantly, deciding not to tell the man in front of her that her sister was already in the library at that moment. "You actually did find something 'really awesome' this time."

"C'mon, Butters!" Buttercup scowled at him, hissing out an irate "Don't call me that" and glaring daggers at him. "We always find awesome shit!"

Snorting incredulously, Buttercup handed off the ice piece to another rebel before returning her attention to the Gangreen Gang.

It was obvious that the gang had aged, but they still looked ridiculously young, a fact that Buttercup still found herself puzzling over. Glancing over the gang, she rolled her eyes at the matching leather jackets they all had. (She was still surprised that they had managed to find one that fit Big Billy. The boy had that nickname for a reason.) There were some differences from when they had been kids, such as their wardrobe and Ace's and Snake's hair. Both had let it grow out and Ace kept his in a ponytail, though he still had bangs, while Snake's was even longer and tied in a braid down his back.

Crossing her arms, Buttercup narrowed her eyes at Ace. "Okay. You brought what you found…why aren't you leaving?"

"Aw, babe. Ya wound me!" Ace dramatically placed a hand over his heart, looking hurt. "I just wanna spend some time wit'cha, that's all!"

Buttercup raised an eyebrow, not missing the way that Mitch, who was returning from a patrol, paused to check out what Harry was doing at the computers. She knew that her co-leader was actually stopping to see what Ace was playing at. Snorting and shaking her head, the green puff gave Ace a rather sarcastic smirk.

"And what makes you think I'll give you the time of day?" She gave him another cold smirk and turned on her heel, heading towards the closest staircase. "Besides, I'm busy as all hell what with Brick suddenly calling back all active military units."

"Oh really? Then why did you have time for us, Butters?" Ace asked as he followed after her, ignoring the glowing green glare she sent him. "I mean, if yer sooooo busy and all, couldn'tcha, I dunno, gotten a grunt or sumptin' to see what we had?"

Buttercup resisted the urge to grind her teeth, trying to ignore the heavy footfalls of the Gangreen leader behind her. She didn't want to admit to Ace that she was going slack with patrols. It was just that after finding Blossom, she felt that she no longer had to do them. She had found her sister, who had been the reason behind all the patrols in the first place. (Well, she had never verbally said that, but to her, that was always the reason behind them.)

Of course, the heavy traffic coming from the Resistance soldiers _did_ indeed keep her busy. She wondered how many times she had shoved Blossom into a closet because a soldier was about to walk by. She took the stairs two at a time and reached the second floor quickly, trying not to think that she was _running away_ from Ace. As if he of all people could scare her. He only really made her skin crawl now.

His footsteps slowed behind her and she sighed. Maybe he was taking the damn hint.

Glancing around, she sent a call out to Blossom mentally. There was a moment of silence and then an unimpressed cough came from her left.

Heat flooding her cheeks, she turned to see Blossom sitting in one of the chairs and looking curiously at her. Her sister had a look that clearly questioned Buttercup's intelligence before it suddenly clouded over. A chill went down her spine causing her to curse under her breath.

"Weeeeeelly, welly, well, well. Look who it is!" Ace said, lowering his sunglasses as he eyed Blossom. "If it isn't Little Blossy!"

Blossom's pink eyes flashed and she softly hissed, " _Don't_ call me 'Blossy'."

Ace just smirked in response, turning to Buttercup. "Oh? You needed _proof_ that she was alive? I mean, she looks pretty much alive to me!"

The rebel leader snarled in response, eyes flashing dangerously.

Apparently, Ace developed a neurosis that said smiling salaciously at angry Powerpuffs was a good idea. She was trying to remember why she had had a crush on the man in front of her. He was sleazy and annoying beyond all hell. Closing her eyes to try to calm herself, she supposed _that's_ exactly why she had liked him. The whole…fake bad boy scum thing. She resisted the urge to gag and, opening her eyes, found Ace walking casually towards the now standing Blossom.

The pink puff's muscles were tense, but it wasn't visible unless someone had grown up with her…someone like Buttercup.

Upon seeing her sister tense, she growled threateningly, "Stay away from her, Ace."

"The Resistance know?" Ace asked, completely ignoring her demand.

He glanced over his shoulder nonchalantly, resisting the urge to grin as her jaw tightened.

"O-Of course!" she scoffed and crossed her arms.

She swallowed thickly. Ace wouldn't tell the Resistance…he couldn't! The Resistance…well, no, Princess hated him and there was no love lost between Ace and Butch, but otherwise, no else cared much for him or his gang. But tell them that Blossom was alive?

Ace seemed to catch the slight tremor in her voice and victoriously smiled at her. He, obviously, was on the same train of thought. "So…I guess me telling 'em that Blossy here is alive won't, y'know, surprise 'em?"

"Of course not!" she said, scoffing again to hide her growing panic.

Images of Resistance soldiers coming to drag Blossom away filled her mind and a bitter taste filled her mouth. No, it wouldn't be soldiers; she had a gut feeling that Brick himself would come to take her sister away. Ace's grin only seemed to widen.

"Let's go call 'em, then," he said, leaning against the bookshelf indifferently. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and, taking one out and placing it to his lips, lighted one with a battered green Zippo lighter. Clicking the lighter shut, he took a drag and turned to her. He let the smoke out as he said, "Well?"

Clenching her fists, Buttercup felt her anger boil in her veins. Why was she acting so afraid of this pathetic excuse of a man? Her eyes narrowed and for a split second, a fiery, green aura wrapped itself around her body before a wave of cold anger and disappointment slammed into her system.

Gasping, eyes widening, Buttercup flicked her gaze to the utterly unreadable Blossom. If she wasn't feeling Blossom's emotions at the moment, she would have sworn that the pink Powerpuff was unaffected by their current situation.

"No, the Resistance doesn't know about me," Blossom said, ignoring the flare of anger from Buttercup.

She was somewhat surprised how easily she slipped back into her leader persona. It felt good to have control of a situation, even if it was tenuous at best. She lifted her chin with a cold look despite Ace towering over both her and Buttercup.

Ace looked at the redhead from over his shades, smirking around his cigarette. Looking her over, he took in her large sweater and jeans and chuckled. If Buttercup was any reference, Ace was pretty damn sure that Blossom was a babe under that baggy maroon sweater.

The redhead scowled at him, her nose scrunching up in a way that Ace found absolutely delectable. Personally, he preferred Buttercup, but Blossom had grown up pretty well, too. Plenty of decidedly unwholesome thoughts were forming in his mind and a lot of them revolved around one or both of the sisters coming to him in the dead of night.

"Pig," said redhead hissed, crossing her arms.

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning suggestively. Opening his mouth to retort, he was cut off by Buttercup.

"Yo, shit bag. She can read your thoughts," she snapped, causing the sunglasses wearing man to whip towards her in shock.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, your little fantasies? Yeah, Blossom's been telepathically sending them to me." Her face looked particularly murderous and she cracked her knuckles ominously. "Hey…you remember the good old days when we beat your sorry asses? No? Well…"

Smirking, Blossom shook her head. "Buttercup."

Ace looked between to the two sisters in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. His cigarette had fallen out of his mouth due to his jaw dropping and he aggressively crushed it to hide his embarrassment.

Clearing his throat, he spoke to the two women, "Okay. So…Blossy's here." He ignored the narrowed pink glare he received at this comment. "And the Resistance don't know a thing…"

Buttercup looked at him, eyes once again glowing her signature light green. "What are you insinuating?"

He shrugged, straightening his leather jacket. "Hey, y'know that the Resistance will pay pretty well to know that Little Blossy here's alive."

"Not without proof," she growled as Snake suddenly appeared besides her. "Holy—! What the fuck, Snake!"

The gang member didn't answer her immediately; he just stared blankly at Blossom for a few moments before clearing his throat. He looked almost haunted and in awe when he said, "Wellsssss, there sssstill issss that icccce, youssss knowssss."

Blossom's blood ran cold at that. How much of her ice had survived? Her expression must have betrayed her terror because Buttercup rounded on Snake faster than the green-skinned man's namesake.

The gangster stumbled backwards at the force of her glare and gulped fearfully. Buttercup could be very scary when she was angry. Especially when her eyes were glowing nearly radioactive green.

"There's _more_?" she snarled as her body lighted up with green energy.

It was obvious that Snake was scared of her and, from the stuttering bursts of fear, so was Blossom to a point. But what could Buttercup do? When she got angry, her newest ability, gained no doubt around the same time Blossom gained her telepathy, activated. Mitch called it her "berserk mode"; she jokingly called it her "Butch mode". Both names fit because she usually lost all sense when she used it. That was one of the reasons why she tried not to use it too much. Not just because she lost a lot of energy, but also because she lost _herself_. It was terrifying enough when she was younger, when, for the longest time, no one knew their individual names, but now, years later, when she had her individuality, it was so much more terrifying. Because it wasn't just her individuality she was losing; no, she was losing all aspects of herself: her mind, her personality, and her inhibitions.

 _"Buttercup. Calm down."_ An authoritative thought forced its way into her diminishing mind and some instinct, some long forgotten kneejerk reaction, told her to heed this voice.

Taking gulping, deep breaths, she stared at a point above Snake's head and allowed her once battle ready muscles to loosen. She unclasped her fists, not surprised when she found bloody crescents where her fingernails had dug into the skin.

She had to calm down. Her temper was her flaw. She always wanted to go with no thought or caution to inhibit her. That was why she had Mitch as a co-captain. There was no way she would have been able to lead the rebels without him.

Gritting her teeth, she asked Snake again, "There…is more _ice_?"

It still sounded like a growl but, without the fiery aura that signified her berserk mode, Snake was a little more willing to answer. At least without the fear that she would blast his head off if he answered wrong.

"Y-Yessss. There'sssss a lot more," he told her, wincing as Ace slapped his forehead. "Ssssorry, Acccce."

Arms crossed as she took in the news, Blossom looked at the three people gathered in front of her. It worried her that her ice had last so long. In the past, it had never lasted that long, not even when she first discovered it. The winter wonderland she had created at Pokey Oaks had melted by the same time the next day. Even the snow that had been the meteor had dissolved a couple of days later. But lasting three weeks? This was definitely new to her. It was almost like her ice was permafrost…

Eyes widening, her recollection from earlier came back to her, but no longer was the voice blurry. She still couldn't identify who was saying it, but the statement was clear now.

_"It's like permafrost."_

Her ice breath had first developed into cryokinesis when she became ten, just before she hit puberty. If she remembered correctly, Buttercup's tornado, which had always been stronger than either her or Bubbles', had suddenly developed into aerokinesis also around that time and Bubbles was suddenly able to learn foreign languages a lot easier than she had before about the same time. Nevertheless, it hadn't been _this_ powerful…

Blossom had to remind herself, _again_ , that it wasn't two years since she was ten, but ten years. Looking down at her hand, the redhead found herself wishing she could talk to the Professor. However, there was no way she could without alerting the Resistance that she was alive.

The Professor, from what Blossom had learned from Buttercup and Mrs. Cavadini, was, while not an officer, an important figure in the Resistance. He wasn't allowed to leave the Resistance headquarters without an armed guard of a least six soldiers and one of the four superpowered humans living there. So there was no way that Blossom could get him to the library without alerting one of the Rowdyruffs or her sister of her presence.

Despite her desperate desire to do so, she just couldn't do it. She didn't want to fight Bubbles or Brick. She just wanted her family back together.

The tears came unbidden, but thankfully, Buttercup was too busy ripping Snake and Ace a new one to notice as she rubbed at her eyes. She didn't need to show the Gangreen Gang weakness. Her sister babied her enough as it was. She didn't want anyone else to realize just how vulnerable she felt.

A sinking feeling entered her stomach and a rather unpleasant thought filled her mind, followed by, yet again, the reiteration of the contemptuous "You're weak" from her memories. Brick would know that she was vulnerable. And Blossom knew he would. They had been able to tell that about each other and it never ceased to anger the other. It was an inherent ability developed after countless tussles, but Blossom hoped after ten years that the ability had become irreparably rusty.

"UGH. FINE! OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT, ACE!? NONE OF YOU ARE LEAVING HERE UNLESS _I_ SAY SO!" Buttercup finally screamed and a collective hush fell, not only on the other three present, but the _whole_ library.

A shout echoed up from somewhere on the first floor.

"WHAT!?"

It was followed by Arturo and Mitch scrambling up the stairs. Both men looked furious and bewildered at the same time. Arturo, who just barely reached Mitch's waist, was trying to make himself looked a lot bigger than he was.

"Whatchu mean nunna us are leaving unless you say so, chica!?" he snapped, glaring at the rebel leader.

"Buttercup…" Mitch growled and Buttercup turned to him.

Somehow, Mitch managed not to flinch at the nearly completely green eyes narrowed at him. Arturo, on the other hand, had taken shelter behind Mitch's legs.

Crossing her arms, she said to her partner, "They saw Blossom. They threatened to tell the Resistance. They are _not_ leaving."

This was all said with the most murderous look that he had ever seen on her face in a long time. If there was one way to successfully tick Buttercup off, it was to threaten one of her family. Then again, Ace already had the preternatural ability to aggravate anyone enough to contemplate murder.

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Mitch grudgingly conceded with her wishes. He was _not_ going against her with this. After all, the moment she told him that they had seen Blossom, there was no way he was going to let them leave anyway.

"Looks like we have some new tenants," he remarked and the three gang members turned to him. He returned their shocked faces with a look of nonchalance. "You saw Blossom. We can't let you leave."

"Alive, at least," Buttercup added, smiling the most vicious smile that Ace had ever seen and even Blossom trembled lightly at the psychotic tinge to her sister's grin.

The pink puff was really regretting letting her sister fight Butch so much at that moment…

* * *

It was much later at night, around eight or so, when the rebels received a transmission from a returning Resistance unit. Immediately, the rebels went about the typical preparations that occurred whenever a Resistance unit arrived, which consisted mostly of them making enough room in the main library for all the soldiers to sleep. Mrs. Cavadini, Kim, and another rebel began preparing dinner for the soldiers and, thirty minutes later, the hungry calls of said soldiers were soon echoing through the library. From the ruckus they were making one would think that the soldiers hadn't eaten in days.

The men and women of the military unit milled about, settling down when Kim and the other rebel came out with a large cart carrying their dinner. They all gazed hungrily at it as if the food was some sacred gift. It took a while for the two women to give the soldiers their dinner. The unit was fairly larger than the other units that Blossom had witnessed. Upon settling her gaze on the commanding officer from her second story perch, suddenly remembered something that Harry had told her earlier.

_"The units lead by Bubbles, Boomer, and Brick are three of the largest."_

That explained the surplus of soldiers and Blossom continued to stare at the commanding officer, committing all his features to memory. She really should have realized that the Rowdyruff Boys would be incorrigibly good-looking, just as she and her sisters were. (Blossom was pretty darn sure that Bubbles was as beautiful as, if not more so than, her and Buttercup.) She wasn't surprised that they had developed the features they been lacking like she and her sisters had. She wondered briefly when they had gone through puberty because they hadn't had fingers or noses the last time she had seen them.

As she looked over the man now talking with Mitch, Blossom felt a sharp pang of longing.

Seeing Boomer suddenly made her wish that Bubbles was here.

She sighed, falling back into one of the chairs. Boomer did look very handsome, that was for sure. His blonde hair was shaggy, like how she remembered it, but looked feathery at the same time and maybe a little longer. (Then again, it _was_ ten years since she last saw him, so she couldn't be sure.) He was a few inches taller than Mitch and with the lean muscle of a track runner. The years had been good to him, giving the blonde Rowdyruff very handsome, boyish features. Of course, he still had those beautiful cobalt eyes, now less mischievous and more serious, but they were still the eyes of her bubbly sister's counterpart.

Blossom groaned, flipping her bangs out of her face. As much as she enjoyed seeing another superhuman other than Buttercup, she knew that if Boomer found out about her, he would tell Brick without hesitation. If Bubbles had been extremely loyal to her, Boomer, as Bubbles' counterpart, would be, in theory, just as loyal to Brick. So Blossom hid herself on the second floor, clutching her knees to her chest as she thought over her predicament.

She listened to the sound of the soldiers talking and the occasional shout without really paying attention. It was a weird feeling, being so close to people that, had she never disappeared, she would have been comrades with. Eyes closing, she let her head fall back. She felt awfully antisocial, hiding away from everyone, but it was for her own safety.

It was driving her insane.

Before she had disappeared, she had been the leader and that had been her place. She took upon herself the title of leader and "eldest". She had been the responsible one ever since the time when they were first created and the Professor was worried about how the people would react to their powers. She had been the one to reprimand Buttercup for wanting to act recklessly, to go against orders, but now…now Blossom wanted desperately to act out, to have the soldiers see her. She wondered why she had this reckless craving, but she knew that she would never act on it.

 _"Still the responsible one, even after all this time,"_ she thought to herself, letting her thoughts drift. _"Still…the responsible…one…"_

* * *

What seemed like moments later, Blossom was jolting awake, eyes widening as almost sludge like thoughts invaded her mind. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and then her head as she looked around the darkened library. She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep. It had been a nice peaceful sleep too, despite how much she had been stressing over. Well, it had been fitful until those thoughts had entered her mind, anyway.

Now fully awake, she stretched and quietly stood, frowning as she tried to remember those thoughts that had wakened her. A shiver passed through her and she shook her head to clear those vile thoughts from it.

The mere thought of them made her skin crawl.

"Emmons? What's up?"

She almost missed the whispered voice despite her super-hearing, but she instantly focused on it, turning her body to the source. She looked down at the first floor, seeing one soldier standing while one of his comrades was propped up on an elbow, looking up at him.

The one she assumed was Emmons pulled something from his waist causing red flags to go up in her mind. Now focusing on this man, she forced herself into his mind to do…something, anything to stop him from no doubt harming his comrade. What she found had her gripping the railing for support as the same evil, sludgy thoughts from earlier filled her head. They were so dark and so putrid, like they had been allowed to fester and decay for years as hatred built up in the man that stood among his sleeping peers.

Her vision blacked out and she felt herself tip forward. The next thing she knew, she was looking at the ceiling as a surprised shout of "Emmons" and the retort of a gun echoed through the sleeping library.

Immediately, ignoring the groaning of her injured back, she was on her feet and jumping onto the top of a bookshelf. She landed lightly and, training her gaze on Emmons, felt an odd feeling of familiarity. It wasn't because the man looked familiar; he was a complete stranger to her. No, the feeling was about something else…something about those thoughts…

" _You_!" Emmons hissed in a voice that should not have come from a human throat, literally foaming at the mouth at the sight of her.

Furrowing her brow in thought, Blossom retained a relaxed expression even as she tensed her muscles for battle. A guttural growl escaped the man's throat and he lunged forward, flying over the ground much faster than a normal human. He threw himself at the bookshelf, upsetting it, but she instantly took flight, still probing his mind.

She felt like she should know why he was acting like that and, as she found a promising memory, the skin on Emmons' hands bubbled and dark colored knife-like protrusions exploded from them. Eyes widening, not only at the blades but also the memory, she flew higher, but wobbled slightly. She scolded herself for not using her powers more in the three weeks that she had been there.

In the next moment, as Emmons glared up at her, Blossom vaguely heard the surprised gasps of the Resistance soldiers. However, she was more focused on trying to make Emmons' memory clearer than the reactions of the troops. Some part of her knew that it had been stupid to jump on top of the bookshelf, but another part, the part that had been dormant for so long, knew that she had done what any hero would've done. However, she didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts as Emmons suddenly crouched as if he were about to jump. For some reason, she became wary at his actions and then shook her head, scolding herself. A normal human couldn't jump high enough to reach her!

She gasped as Emmons literally jumped the twelve feet between them. She twisted, managing to dodge the weird blades that had grown from his hands, and caught sight of his face. A cry of surprise and disgust escaped her throat as she landed on another bookshelf, her hands instantly covering her mouth. What was happening to Emmons? His face was grotesquely deformed on one side by weird, black pustules where the skin had darkened as if burned. The whites of his eyes were a shocking yellow and the irises, which Blossom assumed had been hazel before, were now a weird orange color.

It was at this moment, of course, that the memory suddenly became crystal clear.

_Emmons was slowly surveying the wreckage from the most recent battle with the aliens. He sighed, adjusting his grip on his rifle. They were all so tired. Thank God that the Rebels' base was extremely close. Now smiling slightly, the twenty-something walked around one of the decimated tanks of the alien troops. He stopped abruptly, rifle ready, at the sight of an alien corpse._

_Cautiously creeping closer, Emmons noticed the distinct burns and cuts that could only come from the blasts and psionic sword of Boomer. Relaxing, the soldier let out a soft sigh. Despite his kind demeanor, Boomer was vicious in battle. That was one of the reasons why he feared his commander._

_As the soldier turned, something grabbed his ankle and the next thing he knew, he was being pressed to the ground. Opening his mouth to shout, a bleeding wrist was forced into it and he gagged as the blood covered his teeth and tongue._

_Something leaned towards his ear and hissed, "Drink!"_

_For some reason, he felt compelled to listen to the voice and drank deeply, swallowing the heavily metallic tasting blood._

_The voice groaned and then said, "And you…will find Blo…ssom…and…ki…ll…"_

_As the alien slackened its grip, Emmons threw it off him, rubbing furiously at his mouth and spitting on the ground._

_"Emmons!" The soldier stared at the alien for a moment before running towards his commanding officer's call._

It took Blossom a moment to realize that Boomer's shout wasn't just from the memory. The blue ruff stood only ten feet away, a blue sword made of energy in one hand. His cobalt eyes were glowing faintly and flickered between Emmons and Blossom. She turned to him, blinking away the fuzziness that witnessing Emmons' memory had caused.

Briefly, Boomer let his gaze rest on her and she could tell he was deciding on how to act. When he turned his gaze away, it was clear that he found Emmons the higher priority. Taking a breath, she also turned her attention back to the soldier.

The mutated man looked between the two superpowered beings, though his eyes constantly returned to Blossom. Snarling ferociously as he apparently made his decision, he disregarded Boomer and raced towards her.

The redheaded woman narrowed her eyes and somersaulted backwards, Emmons' blades just catching her hair. As she landed, she stretched out her hand, which was glowing pink, and blasted him in the chest. The soldier went flying backwards and slammed into an empty bookshelf, denting the metal. For a moment, she felt dread fill her heart as he slumped. Had she killed him?

"Oh God…" she groaned as she looked at the man.

She couldn't have, could she? She never killed a man before. But as she thought that, a sharp sting came from her temple. Eyes widening, Blossom saw disjointed images flash before her eyes as Emmons got to his feet. Collapsing to one knee, she gripped her head and tried to force the memories back. Now was not the time to sort through the muddy images.

At this opening, Emmons lunged forward and Blossom, without meaning to, slipped back into his mind.

The alien's words were what she first heard and then, delving deeper, she heard a softer, but more ardent, voice.

_"Save me! I don't want to do this! Stop! Stop me!"_

Gasping softly, she looked up and winced as those blurry, red memories swirled behind her eyelids. Emmons needed help, so her recollection of whatever happened before would have to wait.

Boomer had cut off the soldier, but wasn't doing much more than blocking Emmons' attempts to get to her . Slowly getting to her feet, she looked at the back of Boomer's head with a strong feeling of empathy. He didn't want to harm his subordinate, but knew that he had to.

And she knew what she had to do too.

Standing at her full height, Blossom swayed ever so slightly before rushing towards the two struggling men. She had to end this. From what she could tell, Boomer was too soft-hearted to take out his own soldier and while she had no doubt that any of the others may be able to, she was not about to let any of them do that. She had a better idea.

If they could find a cure to the alien blood he had ingested then maybe, just maybe, they could save Emmons, but the only way to keep Emmons from killing anyone else at the moment was her cryokinesis. She set her mouth into a grim line. She could do this. Her place had and would always be to save people, even from themselves.

Even if they doubted her.

"Boomer!" she called, feeling weird about saying the blond man's name after so long. "Move!"

Glancing back at her, he shot into the air just as she took a deep breath. She then exhaled, releasing the blizzard inside of her and freezing Emmons completely. She had timed it perfectly, too. One of the blades attached to Emmons' hands was just a few inches from her stomach.

Letting out a sigh, she landed in front of the frozen soldier and gently touched the ice encasing him. She felt sorry for the man in front of her. Because for some reason, she felt it was her fault that he had been used by that alien. Heck, she felt that the whole situation was her fault. If she hadn't been so careless…

At the sound of footsteps, she turned around and met Boomer's cautious gaze. The Resistance officer was frowning and, after a painfully pregnant pause, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder.

Boomer's brow furrowed and dropped his hand, as if surprised that she actually stood in front of him. He opened his mouth, murmuring softly in his confusion, "Blossom?"

The pink puff smiled shyly at his confusion. "Hi, Boomer. How have you been?"


	5. Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one didn't actually have any trivia, besides the chapter title being a song by Plain White T's. 
> 
> This is the last chapter I'm posting for today! While I'm on a roll and really want to share the updated story with everyone, I should probably space it out a little bit more so I actually have stuff to share and you all don't have to wait another six years for the next chapter!
> 
> Oh, and, _enter Brick_

He sat staring at the computer screen without really seeing it. It was early in the morning and he hadn’t slept at all the night before. Of course, he _had_ been looking over the reports from not only the units from the Townsville branch of the Resistance, but reports from other branches as well. Rubbing his eyes, he frowned down at the message from Boomer. It stated that the blue ruff had made it to the rebel base without too many fatalities. That was good, but what else it stated made him confused and apprehensive.

Apparently, the rebels had decided to finally join with the Resistance. He had to admit that it was good, more manpower was always good, but why would Buttercup suddenly swallow her pride and join them?

It did not sit well with Brick.

The red ruff leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a while since he saw any of the rebels. Hell, it was a while since he had even gone into the field! He had been more focused on strategizing and planning. There was too much to handle with the inner mechanisms of the Resistance to go out into the field. When he had agents like Boomer, Butch, and Bubbles, he didn't really have any reason _to_ get his hands dirty.

There had to be a reason for Buttercup suddenly deciding to join them. Brick knew for a fact that she would have eaten all of her toes and fingers instead of joining them and listening to someone other than Pinky. His frown deepened and he covered his mouth in thought, brows furrowing.

There was no way Buttercup would join them, so why? Why was she? What could have spurred her to do so?

The thought came to him unbidden and he wasn’t even sure why he was thinking it.

Why did he suddenly think that Pinky had something to do with this?

* * *

Blossom sat on one of the bookshelves, kicking her legs absentmindedly. It was morning, maybe seven or eight, and the rebels were running around collecting belongings that they wanted to bring with them to the Resistance base. She had to admit she was surprised that Buttercup had agreed to join. The invitation had only been a formality; she knew she would be going to the Resistance whether Buttercup or she wanted to or not. It somewhat irked her that she had no real control over what she did anymore.

However, then she would remember how long she was gone and how much the world had changed due to the Narcassians. Whenever she remembered that, she felt selfish afterwards. With the way things were now, everyone had to be treated with a healthy dose of suspicion.

That being said, it was no surprise that the Resistance soldiers had two men watching her and she wasn’t allowed to help the rebels collect their possessions. Huffing softly, she held up her head with her right hand, her elbow on her knee. She wasn’t a threat. Yes, she had been taken by the aliens, but she had managed to escape and had been helping the rebels ever since. True, she had not told the Resistance that she was back, but could they blame her?

Snorting incredulously, Blossom rolled her eyes at her own naïveté. Of course, they could blame her! The pink puff sighed and, catching sight of Boomer, sat up.

“Hey! Boomer!” she called to the military officer. The blue ruff turned at her call and, looking guarded, went over to her. She gave him a reassuring smile, but he still looked guarded. “Seriously, I’m not going to attack anyone.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, Blossom. Can’t take that chance.”

Fighting the urge to pout, she said instead, “But you know me—”

“No, I don’t,” he cut her off, frowning at her. “ _Brick_ knew you, or at least, the you he fought against. _I_ only knew you as Bubbles’ sister and Brick’s counterpart because we never really fought.” He crossed his arms, looking as if he wanted to feel sorry for her, but knew he shouldn’t. “And I haven’t seen you for ten years, Blossom. I don’t know how much you’ve changed.”

She honestly wasn’t sure how to react to that. What he had said was all true. She never fought with him and honestly, what did she know about him? Besides the few insistences where she was able to observe his behavior, such as when they kidnapped him and had Bubbles go undercover as him, she knew next to nothing about the blue ruff. She knew that Boomer had started not talking whenever the two trios ever met around when they were eight and she had a suspicion as to why. Brick had seemed to rather enjoy abusing his “youngest” brother whenever he had said something Brick had deemed stupid.

“…you’re right,” she finally admitted, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair before propping her head on her fist. She gave him a melancholy smile before speaking again. “And I suppose appealing to your soft side won’t work because you’re a Rowdyruff and don’t have one?”

At that, his look hardened and he turned away. “We haven’t called ourselves the Rowdyruff Boys in years…and I haven’t considered myself one either.”

He left after that without another word.

Blossom looked after him with a mixture of sympathy and empathy. They hadn’t been calling themselves the Rowdyruff Boys? Everyone still called them that, but it was one thing to be called that by everyone else, she supposed. It was another thing all together when the ones the name referred to no longer considered it them.

A tight feeling filled her chest. She clasped her hands together, leaning her mouth against her fists. She never asked, but did Buttercup still refer to herself as a Powerpuff Girl?

…did Bubbles?

“Ah, hell nah! Why do we hafta go with yas!?” Ace’s voice cut through her thoughts and the pink puff turned a little to see Ace stalking after an annoyed Mitch and infuriated Buttercup.

“Do ya think I’m gonna let you guys run around after you’ve seen Blossom!? Think again, you motherfucker!” Buttercup shouted back, rounding on the just as angry man. “And do you think I _want_ to go to the Resistance? I _don’t_! But to keep Blossom safe and not have fucking _Brick_ breathing down our necks, I’m going to the Resistance! AND _you_ , your gang, all the Rebels, and Blossom are all fucking coming with me!”

“Why don’t yousss ssscream louder? I don’t thinksss they heard yousss in Tibet,” Snake remarked from the back of one of the two trucks the rebels were loading with their possessions. He was perched on the tailgate, completely ignoring the two rebels attempting to push a large bag inside. “Wesss getsss it. Wesss have to go to the Resssissstance with yousss.”

Snarling, Buttercup whipped towards him, her fists glowing radioactive green. She took a step and then another and another until the next thing anyone knew, she was charging the truck at top speed.

Blossom immediately jumped from her perch, zooming towards her enraged sister. With the distance between them, however, there was no way she would be able to make it in time. Not with the speed Buttercup was using.

_WHAM!_

With an earth-shaking thud, Buttercup slammed into the floor, causing a rather large crater. Blossom skidded to stop just feet away, pink eyes wide as Boomer calmly straightened.

His cobalt eyes were hard and he was frowning down at her sister. Said Powerpuff gasped out and, rolling onto her side, started coughing. Slowly, she pushed herself up and sent a withering glare at him. Her glare was received with an apathetic look.

“You should learn to control your temper,” he said softly, coldly, as he floated into the air. He easily dodged the punch Buttercup threw at him and actually caught her wrist. “I am _not_ fighting with you, Buttercup.”

Something in the way Boomer said that made her freeze.

She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure what exactly she was feeling in that moment. She had heard that said before. It had been a while ago. So long ago…it almost felt like another lifetime.

Ripping her wrist from his grip, she floated back to the ground, eyes darting between Boomer and Blossom. That’s right. Blossom had been the one who said that, hadn’t she? Back when they had been forced to that asteroid because of the people of Townsville and where they had first decided to save them, despite all that the people had said against them. Her eyes snapped back to her sister and lime met rose.

 _“I’m_ not _fighting with you, Buttercup!”_

Blossom remembered saying that. She remembered how angry Buttercup had been and, from the storm of emotions she could sense from the ‘Toughest Fighter’, she was just as angry now as she had been that day.

Sighing softly, Blossom closed her eyes and collected her thoughts. The swirling emotions from Buttercup weren't helping, though, and she wondered how Mitch managed to work with her hotheaded sister. Then she wondered how _she_ had been able to do it all those years ago.

“Buttercup,” she called, eyes snapping open to look at her sister. “Calm yourself. Getting angry won't help anything.”

Her sister rounded on her, ready to let her know exactly what was on her mind. However, with one look into Blossom’s eyes, Buttercup faltered and stood down with clenched fists.

The pink puff continued to watch her until she was sure that her sister wouldn't jump up and strangle Snake. For some reason, she was very surprised that Buttercup was actually listening to her. Only a day ago was the green puff telling her what to do and now? It seemed like the roles were no longer switched.

There was a tense and rather pregnant silence after the ordeal and those who had stopped to watch quickly went back to whatever they had been doing. Blossom continued to monitor her sister, literally shadowing Buttercup around until Harry stopped the green puff in the middle of her pacing.

“We just packed the last bag, BC,” he reported, fixing the strap of his backpack. He shifted as Buttercup merely stared at him. “So…are…are we leaving now?”

The rebel leader blinked languidly before rubbing her eyes and sighing. “As soon as the Resistance assholes are ready.”

Blossom leered at her sister and jumped when someone cleared their throat from behind her. Whipping around, surprised that she hadn’t noticed someone sneaking up on her, she came face to face with a rather emotionless Boomer.

He smirked sarcastically and said, “The Resistance assholes are ready to go.”

Flushing slightly, Buttercup snorted and crossed her arms.

“Good.” She nodded, turning, and called out to the rebels. “All right, rebels! Get your asses over here! Kids and Mrs. Cavadini into a truck! Everyone else on the bikes or pile into the backs of the trucks!”

As Buttercup was screaming at the rebels, Boomer was shouting orders to his units. “Fall into line! Everyone at ready! We leave in five!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

As they were trained, the Resistance soldiers immediately fell into line, the ice block that encased Emmons on a trolley attached to Floyd’s motorcycle. Blossom watched impressed at the efficiency and order in which the soldiers moved. And the fact they obeyed Boomer so well, despite his history, was even more impressive.

A small bubble of hope formed in her chest. The Rowdyruff Boys had been one of their fiercest rivals…they _had_ been their fiercest rivals and renowned vandals. If they could trust Boomer, who had been a known villain, then possibly, just possibly, they would trust her, despite her being gone so long…

* * *

Boomer hadn’t given him a precise time in which to expect him, so Brick went about business as usual.

This was spent heavily on trying to get Butch to actually learn and use the strategies he had devised.

Rubbing his temples, Brick gritted his teeth as his hot-tempered brother crossed his arms and gave him a defiant look. This was not working. It was strange. Usually getting Butch to look over and agree on a strategy took only an hour or so, not nearly two hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty seconds. (Brick had indeed been keeping count. It was one of the ways that helped him keep calm, or at least, he used to _try_ to stay calm.) It was almost like as soon as Butch learned that the rebels were actually joining, he decided that whatever Brick had to say was irrelevant.

Running a hand through his hair, Brick glared darkly at his brother.

“All right, Butch. What the fuck is so hard about this fucking strategy?” he snapped angrily, red eyes flashing in a very dangerous way.

“What’s so hard…? Oh! Uh, yeah. What’s so hard is…uh…” Butch trailed off at the sight of Brick squeezing his eyes closed in aggravation.

Running a hand over his face, the Resistance leader looked straight at his brother and, insulting his brother entirely with his eyes, voiced a question he was dreading to get an answer from.

“You are _not_ getting excited over the fact that Buttercup is coming here, are you?” he asked so calmly that Butch found himself inching backwards very, very slowly. “Because if you are and that is the reason why you’re so fucking distracted, so help me, Butch, I will make sure that you won’t be able to do _anything_ , but eat food through a tube, for a _fucking week_!”

Swallowing dryly, Butch merely grinned widely at his very irate brother. “Brick…I love you, man. You know that, right?”

And then he sped away at top speed leaving an _extremely_ furious Brick in his wake.

* * *

Multiple hours later, the rebels and Boomer’s military unit were in the tunnels. Said tunnels had been created a little after the Resistance’s Townsville base had been finished and crisscrossed the nation connecting to all other Resistance bases. The underground highways were covered in vibrant white tiles with bright fluorescent lights forming a thick stripe on the ceiling. On either side of the tunnel were thin, neon lights that glowed with a deep blue light, much like the colored streak that usually accompanied Boomer when he flew. The whole structure had very science fiction-like connotations, reminding Blossom of the space ships on the sci-fi films the Professor had been so fond of.

At this point, Blossom’s whole life had become like a sci-fi movie, even more so now with the Narcassians controlling the world.

“Are we there yet?” Arturo groaned from Big Billy’s shoulder, using the other man’s head as an armrest.

“For the love of… NO! We are _not_ there yet!” Buttercup shouted from the roof of one of the trucks. She twisted around, moving her legs out of the crisscross style she had been sitting in. “That is the fifty-sixth time you’ve said that!”

“Eighty-second,” Boomer corrected, wincing slightly at the glare she threw at him. “But who’s counting?”

“Apparently you are,” Mitch intervened, driving between the truck Buttercup was perched on and Boomer. “But ignoring that—” He paused and turned slightly to throw a glare at the Gangreen gang. “We still have quite a few hours to go before we reach the base, so get comfy, amigo.”

This received a string of Spanish profanities that no one, save Carlos and the few people who spoke Spanish, understood. Said rebel then responded in kind and an intense argument ensued between the two men.

This served to be the soundtrack for the next how many minutes and Buttercup just snorted, turning back around. Everyone else took a page from her book and ignored them as well, though Blossom was rubbing her head in pain as the two Hispanic men’s thoughts entered her mind.

“You okay, Bloss?” Mitch called to the pink puff, who was sitting on the roof next to Buttercup.

The red haired woman smiled weakly at Mitch and nodded, though she was still holding her head. Ignoring the suspicious look from Boomer and Buttercup, as well as the flare of concern from her sister, Blossom closed her eyes and just gently rubbed her temples, letting her mind empty.

She knew that it was probably dangerous trying to remember things while on top of a truck, albeit a slow-moving truck, but a moving truck nonetheless, but she just wanted to be able to answer whatever questions Brick would throw at her. Despite the throbbing headache she had, which was not helped by the flood of angry thoughts (that were in Spanish, which was even more aggravating) from Carlos and Arturo, she forged on, receiving a tremendous amount of resistance.

Blossom decided that having amnesia would not be on her Top Ten Favorite Experiences list.

She knew that forcing herself to remember wouldn’t help, but she would admit to herself that she could be rather impatient at times. And it wasn’t as if she was completely blank on what have happened to her. The memories were _right there_ , so close that if she only stretched a little, only thought harder, maybe, just maybe, she could reach them. They were blurry and unclear, but they were so close. She had remembered a few things over the three weeks she had been free from the aliens, but half of those things hadn’t been of importance.

What did the Resistance care if the aliens took good care of her? What did it matter what kind of food they fed her? She was sure that these things would be relevant, but at the moment, she didn’t think Brick would care.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she knew that Carlos and Arturo were still arguing and waves of irritation were coming from, and off, Buttercup like miniature tsunamis. From the annoyed thoughts coming from him, Blossom was pretty sure that Boomer wasn’t amused anymore either.

Cupping her neck as she leaned forward, the pink-eyed woman wondered who would snap first. A part of her was sure it was going to be Buttercup, but another part thought it would be funny to see Boomer snap at them. She hid the amused smile that appeared on her face. Since when did she have a humor like Buttercup? She glanced over to see if Boomer had the same irritated expression as said sister, only to gasp.

The military officer was nowhere to be seen.

Hiding her confusion and surprise, she cautiously looked around and tried to spot the blue ruff. Despite her efforts, she found neither hide nor hair of him. Now thoroughly scared, she became a little more frantic in her search for the blonde.

He was nowhere.

“You okay there, Red?” Buttercup asked finally noticing her actions.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. I’m all right.” The pink puff blushed lightly at being found out.

However, her embarrassment was short-lived as she continued glancing about. Where had Boomer gone?

A sharp yelp from behind her was the answer she was looking for.

Turning to see why Arturo was whimpering, Blossom found Boomer floating above the two Gangreen members. The blue ruff looked extremely displeased, but he was sporting a maliciously amused grin. Without a word to the small man, he returned to his post leading the Resistance soldiers. The nonchalance he oozed was marred by the wide grin he wore. It strikingly reminded Blossom of the times when they had been younger and the Rowdyruff Boys had just vandalized or stole something. They always had those large, near-psychotic grins on their faces afterwards.

“I thought you Resistance guys were supposed to be all prim and proper,” Mitch remarked as Buttercup snorted in agreement.

“Do you remember who you’re talking to?” Boomer responded, raising an eyebrow. “I’m an ex-Rowdyruff.”

Blossom was glad to see she wasn’t the only one who was bewildered about that. From the frowns on both Buttercup’s and Mitch’s faces, they too found the use of ex with Rowdyruff strange.

Tightening her jaw, she looked forward. No matter what Boomer said, he would always be a Rowdyruff Boy to her. They would all be Rowdyruffs…because, because that’s what they were. It was strange if they were anything else, like it was strange if she and her sisters were anything besides the Powerpuff Girls. A leaden feeling formed in her stomach again and he sighed softly. She still didn’t know whether or not Buttercup and Bubbles still considered themselves Powerpuff Girls.

“Hey…I just remembered,” Harry said, causing both Blossom and Buttercup to look down at the truck. “Isn’t there a scanner before the base?”

Cursing colorfully, Buttercup slapped her forehead, letting her hand slide over her eyes. “That’s right! Shit! What are we going to do about that?”

“Scanner?” Blossom was confused as to what they were referring. She looked at Buttercup and then to Boomer who made a weird noise in his throat.

“It’s a device set up before the gate to the base that, well, scans everyone and sends data on them to the techies,” Boomer explained, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He rubbed his mouth. “There goes keeping Blossom a secret until I can explain everything to Brick.” 

Even Buttercup was surprised at that comment. “You were going to keep Blossom a secret?”

This received an ‘are-you-stupid’ look from Boomer. “Only for a brief time, just until I could explain what I know to Brick. You _do_ remember that Brick and Blossom were _never_ civil with each other, right?”

“That’s a nice way of saying with we tried to rip each other’s throats out,” Blossom remarked blandly, but she was sighing a moment later. “Great. Another unforeseen obstacle.”

* * *

Looking back, the Professor would realize that he had planned the inspection for the Scanning Room at the perfect time.

Professor John Utonium was currently tinkering with one of the machines. The scanning process had been remarkably slow as of late and he was certain that the update he and Mojo had managed to create would definitely help. He had already added it to the other machines and was currently working on adding it to the computer before him when a beep alerted him that a scanning process was beginning.

Cursing to himself, Professor Utonium quickly finished installing the new device and pulled up a list of the people being scanned. It was then, as a list of people crawled across the screen, that both the computer and the handheld computer on his belt gave sharp chirps.

Eyes widening at the profile in front of him, he looked at his tablet to see an identical image. He knew he had made a special attachment to the scanning program to alert him if she ever came through, but he hadn’t expected it to actually work.

The Professor then deleted the profile from the main scanning machine and hurried out of the room. He needed to get to the gate. Fast. But how could he make it there?

Glancing around, the man’s eyes alighted on the hover scooter of one of the Scanning Room’s technicians. He grabbed it without hesitation and, jumping onto it, sped off.

“Sorry!” he called over his shoulder as the technician who owned the scooter shouted in protest. “I’ll bring it back!”

He really, really, _really_ needed to get to the gate before anyone else.

Zipping down the halls, he nearly crashed into Brick. Swerving at the last moment, he called another apology over his shoulder at the rather confused redhead. He didn’t have time to talk to Brick. Besides, if Brick found out that Boomer was returning already and _she_ was with him…

The Professor shuddered helplessly, remembering how ruthlessly the red-eyed man had beaten one of his precious little girls. Even though Brick was almost a son to him now, there was no way Professor Utonium was going to allow Brick to get to his baby before him.

* * *

Rewinding the clock a few minutes, the rebels and Boomer’s unit had finally reached the tunnel that lead to the gate of the Townsville branch of the Resistance. After the whole conversation about the scanner, Blossom was antsy, squirming in her seat and rubbing her clammy palms against her denim-clad legs. It wasn’t how she expected to be found out, through a device used to scan for enemies, but it was better than the flamboyant entrance that she imagined, which in itself was influenced by the entrance Buttercup imagined. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous. Hadn’t she wanted to show herself to the Resistance just the other day? But not like this. Not through an inanimate object with no feeling whatsoever.

Sighing softly, Blossom almost missed Harry’s remark of, “Well, that was painless.”

Now thoroughly confused, she looked around and, turning to look behind her, saw a sparkling, translucent wall of blue that was definitely not there before. Mouth opening in shock, she could only make useless noises as she tried to voice her shock. That had _not_ been what she had been expecting by a _scanner_.

An amused snort came from her right, causing her to flush brightly and turn back around.

“Everyone reacts the same way the first time…” Boomer muttered and she sent him an annoyed leer. From the Gangreen’s and assorted rebels’ gasps, she, thankfully, wasn’t the only one surprised.

“Well…time to face the dragon,” Buttercup muttered darkly and she knew exactly who she was referring to.

By this time, the door, if door was the correct word for the large edifice in front of her, was just feet from them.

Taking calming breaths, Blossom found her heart beating erratically in her chest. She didn’t know what she was more nervous about: facing all those people she had known and those who she hadn’t or facing Brick and the other villains. And then…and then there was the image of the Professor appearing in her mind and again the tears sprang to her eyes.

She wanted to see her father.

“Blossom?” Buttercup murmured softly, gently touching her sister’s trembling hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… I just want to see dad,” she responded just as softly, if not more so, her voice cracking.

Buttercup gently squeezed Blossom’s hand and dropped it a moment later as someone slipped through the gate.

It was safe to say that the person standing there was definitely not who they were expecting.

The Professor closed the door, pressing his hand to it, before turning around. He looked over the shocked faces of the rebels and Resistance alike until his eyes finally landed on _her_.

His mouth went dry and his eyes became watery as he took in the image of a young woman who, had he not seen the image on the computer, he might have not recognized. But the Professor knew as soon as he thought that that he would have recognized Blossom even if he hadn’t seen her picture. How could he forget that face, matured though it was? How could he forget her hair or skin or eyes? Especially with the way Buttercup leaned protectively over her?

The knot in his chest tightened and the Professor brought up a hand to cover his mouth. Taking a few steps forward and letting his hand drop to his side, the man stared at his “eldest” daughter as if she was a dream.

“Blossom?” he murmured.

The next moment there was a streak of pink and Blossom was tackling her father in a tight hug.

“Professor!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Professor!”

The Professor returned her hug, clutching her tightly to himself. “Oh God…Blossom. Oh God. Look at you.” He pulled back and looked at the young woman in front of him. “You’re all grown up…and…” More tears came as he realized that he hadn’t been there to watch he grow like he had planned. “Oh _Blossom_.”

Blossom, unintentionally reading the Professor’s sad thoughts, looked at her father just as sadly.

“I missed you.” She wasn’t sure if she missed anyone, actually, but it felt right saying it anyway. “Oh, _dad_.”

She then hugged him again as Boomer and Buttercup approached the two.

The Professor looked up to see the two and, pulling Buttercup into the hug as well, told Boomer, “You have impeccable timing. I was inspecting the Scanning Room when you came through. No one has seen that Blossom was with you.”

Boomer looked surprised, blue eyes wide. “Seriously? So that means…”

“Brick doesn’t know?” Buttercup finished, wiggling out of the hug. Blossom looked up at her father, who nodded. “WAHOO! Awesome! That means we can still sneak Blossom in!”

This received three disbelieving stares and multiple confused ones from the other rebels and Resistance soldiers. Buttercup’s excitement at hiding Blossom wasn’t exactly new, but it still wasn’t precisely the best thing. Especially when it was in reference to one rather paranoid Resistance officer.

The Professor frowned at Buttercup. “As much as I don’t relish experiencing the reaction I _know_ Brick will have, we have to tell him and the Resistance.”

Buttercup immediately lowered her arms and fought back a pout. “Why does everyone keep reminding me about that? I _knoooooow_.”

Laughing at her sister’s attitude, Blossom finally pulled away from the Professor’s embrace. She was feeling much happier now that she was with him. Seeing him made her think that everything would be all right, despite whatever would happen with Brick.

“We wouldn’t keep bringing it up if you acted like you remembered,” she responded, smiling warmly at her sister.

The Professor smiled indulgently as Buttercup snorted at Blossom before a deep sigh escaped him.

“As much as I enjoy this…” He turned to Boomer, a very serious look on his face. “When you enter through there, take Buttercup and Blossom to the clothing department and get clothes for Blossom. When that’s done, come to my lab.”

“Yessir,” Boomer said, saluting the scientist. He paused, though, digesting what was just said to him. “…why are they going to your lab?”

Professor Utonium raised an eyebrow at Boomer. “It’s mandatory for any and all superhumans to have a medical exam the first day they come. And also!” He turned to Buttercup. “Find a hoodie or jacket to cover Blossom up. We don’t want anyone to learn about her before the conference.”

“Conference?” the three superpowered young adults echoed, clearly confused.

The Professor was already heading back to the door. “Yes! Conference! Where we’ll unveil Blossom! I’ll set it up!”

And with that he disappeared through the door, leaving three still very confused superhumans.

“Wait…what just happened?” Buttercup asked, frowning.

Scratching his head, Boomer sighed, frowning at the door. “

Not a clue," he muttered and turned to the two women next to him. “Let’s get a hoodie for Blossom before we do anything, though.”

Narrowing her eyes at being ordered around by _Boomer_ , the green puff turned to the stalled people behind her. “YO! Mitch! Get me a hoodie for Blossom! Something big!”

A moment later, after rummaging through the bags, Mitch came over with a large, dark blue hooded sweatshirt. Handing it off to Buttercup, he looked at her expectantly. Everyone had seen the little show that had occurred when Blossom saw the Professor. While none of them had quite heard what they had said, they had heard the Professor call to Boomer and Buttercup about a conference.

While not privy to all that had transpired, Mitch was pretty sure he knew what the conference was going to be for.

“All right, so what’s going on?” he asked as Blossom pulled on the hoodie.

Buttercup crossed her arms and looked over her sister before responding. “Boomer’s taking me and Blossom to get her clothes and then to the Professor’s lab. I’m not sure what you guys’ll be doing.”

In response to that, Boomer waved over one of the soldiers.

“Jackson here will take care of them,” he said, turning to the group of people. “This is an order to all of you! Do _not_ mention Blossom to _anyone_. And also, soldiers, get Emmons to the Professor’s lab. Tell no one why he is encased in ice.” This received a sonorous “Sir, yes, sir” to which Boomer nodded most satisfied. After that, he turned to Buttercup. “And now let’s head to the clothing department.”

Fixing her hood so that it didn’t obscure her vision, Blossom followed the blond young man with a grumbling Buttercup following, after saying a few things to Mitch. Feeling her throat tighten as they approached the door, the redhead found herself again taking deep, calming breaths.

She was just going to walk through a door. There was nothing wrong about walking through a door. Plenty of people walked through doors; _most_ people walked through doors. (Blossom then remembered that she and her sisters and the Boys, if she thought about it, had had a weird thing against doors when they were little. They rarely used them and instead burst through the ceiling or the wall, but I digress.)

Boomer opened the rather large door and held it open for the two sisters. Nodding her thanks, Blossom gulped and stepped through.

Into the Resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I cried when I wrote the reunion between the Professor and Blossom. It still gets me misty-eyed even now.


	6. Chapter 5: The Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but decided to upload early as a birthday present to myself and because I can't wait any longer lol
> 
> My plan is to update once a week, hopefully on Saturdays, until this is caught up to Fanfiction (which is up to chapter 8). Once that is, updates will probably be longer between as I write the chapters. Hopefully I can get a good bank before then though! 
> 
> Please enjoy!

The journey to the clothing department took shorter than Blossom thought, despite how large the Resistance base was. Of course, if anyone asked her what the route was they had taken, she would have just stared blankly at them with a sheepish smile.

Saying that Boomer took a confusing course was putting it lightly. After the seventh turn, she had given up trying to remember what way they had gone. She was impressed that he had actually managed to remember the way, seeing as he hadn’t been the sharpest tool in the shed back when they were younger. She supposed that was a bit unfair, but old habits were hard to break.

The route they took was long and winding and, though most of the halls were straight, there were too many crossroads for her not to get confused. Additionally, many of the hallways also were connected to larger rooms that gave the underground headquarters a rabbit warren-esque feel.

“Clothing department? It sounds like this place is a mall,” Buttercup remarked as Boomer led them through a pair of automated doors. “…make that a warehouse…”

Warehouse fit much better than the simple 'clothing department'. There were rows and stacks of containers full of attire as far as the eye could see. Large signs denoted where everything was and what sections belonged to what age and gender group. Everything had a very industrial feel to it, making it very organized and rather impersonal. Blossom glanced around at the dark gray and silver containers with interest as Boomer lead them through the rows.

Buttercup looked extremely bored, she noticed, and maybe even a little uncomfortable. It probably reminded her of clothes shopping and God knew how much the green-eyed woman _hated_ clothes shopping.

In contrast, Blossom felt almost like Alice as she followed Boomer through the rows, through stacks and stacks, with signs that she only just understood. Particularly if she remembered their walk here. Alice had gone down a rabbit hole and Blossom was finding that she might not be far off herself. At least, she was able to remember her way this time. Where the blue ruff was exactly taking her and Buttercup, however, she wasn't sure.

They had already past three people, all of which looked shocked and curious about the two people he had in tow. It soon became apparent that Boomer was looking for someone specific as they passed two more people dressed in gray-blue uniforms.

Frowning in confusion, her eyes bore into the back of his skull as he finally stopped in front of a stooped woman.

Buttercup and Blossom looked at each other and then towards the woman as he cleared his throat.

“Oh! Oh, Boomer! You scared me!” the woman remarked, holding a hand over her thumping heart. (The three superhumans could hear it rather clearly, despite the music echoing from some music player in the front of the department.) “What is it you need, dear?”

“What…Ms. Keane!?” Buttercup exclaimed as the woman smiling at the three was indeed their old kindergarten teacher. “What-What are _you_ doing here?”

Ms. Keane clearly looked just as shocked to see her. She stared for a moment, her hand slowly falling to her side.

“I could ask you the same thing, Buttercup!” she responded, blinking her bright blue eyes owlishly. “Why are you here at the Resistance?”

Mouth opening and closing uselessly, Buttercup fought to collect her thoughts. Finally shaking her head, the green-eyed woman responded, “Well, you see…a-about that…uh…”

She floundered to elaborate, looking between Blossom and Ms. Keane as if that could help. She eventually settled for a grimace and an odd hand waving movement.

Their former teacher only looked more confused. The green puff crossed her arms in response.

Boomer made a noise in his throat and, gently taking her by the arm, pulled Ms. Keane into a more deserted section of the department. The two puffs followed loyally behind him, more out of lack of knowledge of what to do than anything else. Once he made sure that no one was around, glancing about to double check his assumption, he then turned to Blossom. Tugging the young woman in between him and Ms. Keane, he used his body to block the end of the aisle and made a sort of human shield for the red-haired young woman.

“ _She’s_ the reason Buttercup is here,” he said, pulling back her hood.

It was safe to say that Ms. Keane was shocked.

The fact that she had fainted just added to that certainty.

“Oh my God! Ms. Keane!” Blossom instantly dove to the woman’s side, Buttercup and Boomer right after her. “Ms. Keane! Ms. Keane!”

“Wha-What?” The older woman blinked blearily, holding her head as Boomer helped her sit up. “Ohhh…I thought…I thought that…”

Blue eyes met rose and Ms. Keane’s mouth dropped open. She unabashedly stared at Blossom, one hand reaching out shakily. The moment her fingers met the soft skin of her face, tears pooled in Ms. Keane’s eyes and she covered her mouth.

In response to her reaction, Blossom smiled lovingly, enjoying the warm feeling in her chest. If Ms. Bellum had been Blossom’s ideal for a businesswoman and leader, Ms. Keane had been her ideal for a mother and caretaker. Seeing the blue-eyed, raven-haired (though she noticed that she had a little gray now) woman made that warm feeling grow into something Blossom hadn’t felt in a long time. The familiar feeling had the same familial connotations as that fuzzy feeling that she got when she first saw Buttercup and the Professor.

After all, she and her sisters had sworn that their father still held a torch for their old teacher. Even they too had considered her the closest thing to a mom they ever had.

“Hi, Ms. Keane,” Blossom murmured, still smiling at her warmly.

“Blossom needs clothes,” Buttercup explained as Ms. Keane continued staring at her redheaded sister.

“Clothes…yes, right,” their old teacher said, nodding as Boomer carefully helped her up. “Thank you, Boomer. Right. So…” She blinked rapidly at Blossom, tilting her head in curiosity. “Do you know your sizes?”

A blush formed on Blossom’s cheeks as she shook her head.

Frowning, but seemingly unsurprised, Ms. Keane took her hand and lead her away from the aisle. Pulling her hood over her head, Blossom followed behind obediently and let her former teacher take her wherever. Ms. Keane knew the department better than she did, probably better than either Buttercup or Boomer did, so she felt safe allowing her to lead her.

They passed a few more aisles until they came to a door, which was the typical silvery color with blue lining. The blue-eyed woman waved her hand over the circular blue motion sensor and the doors swished open with a soft, pneumatic hiss. Gently pushing Blossom into the room, Ms. Keane turned to the two other superhumans who had attempted to follow her.

“Unless you’re going to help me with measuring which, if you’ve forgotten, I don’t need, I’d like it if you two stayed here,” she said with a chastising tone.

She was holding up one finger and the look on her face was enough to even make Buttercup pause indecisively.

Pouting uncharacteristically, said green-eyed woman huffed and crossed her arms, settling against a random clothes container. Boomer followed suit, though he instead stuffed his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the tub nonchalantly. Honestly, it was like she told them that they couldn’t play with a puppy with the way they were acting.

Eyes narrowed at the two, Ms. Keane then slipped into the room, closing the door securely behind her. She stared at it for a moment, collecting herself, before she took a breath and turned around. Seeing Blossom made tears yet again enter her eyes. It had been too long since she had last seen her, too long since she had seen the Girls all together. She could only imagine how John had reacted when he had seen her again.

There no doubt had been tears.

Smiling at the young woman in front of her, the former kindergarten teacher pulled a tape measure off a shelf. She could ask the Professor later. She had work to do.

“Shall we begin?” she asked, smiling warmly.

The deft fingers of Ms. Keane worked quickly with the tape and she wrote down every measurement as soon as she found it. Despite trying to act as if she was unaffected, a warm blush was covering Blossom’s cheeks as the older woman took her measurements. She wasn’t embarrassed because it was Ms. Keane measuring her; it was more so she was embarrassed because of the mere fact she didn’t have the slightest inkling as to why Ms. Keane was taking certain measurements. Like the inside of her leg, why did _that_ need to be measured? And then, of course, to her sheer embarrassment, Ms. Keane had to ask about her chest size.

Flushing vividly, Blossom shuffled nervously, before shyly shaking her head to pass along that she had _no_ idea what her breast size was. When she was twelve, she was just making the transition from camisoles to real brassieres and her breasts hadn’t fully developed yet. Seeing as that’s where the clearest of her memories ended, Blossom wasn’t sure what size bra she would need. Glancing down at the large hoodie and the baggy shirt she wore under it, she couldn’t help her mind going to the voluptuous form of her younger sister.

As if sensing her distress, Ms. Keane smiled indulgently at the girl.

“You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman, Blossom,” she remarked. She then motioned to her sweatshirt. “I’ll get a better measurement if you remove your hoodie.”

Glancing worriedly at the door, Blossom removed the dark blue sweatshirt. Smiling encouragingly at her, Ms. Keane then looped the measuring tape around the redhead’s torso. The redhead tried to best not to squirm in embarrassment, looking stubbornly at the ceiling above her. A moment later, Ms. Keane was recording the measurement as Blossom pulled the hoodie back on.

“Well, shall we get you some clothes now?” Ms. Keane asked, still smiling widely. She paused at the door, turning to look at Blossom lovingly. “You know…I still don’t know whether this is a dream or not…”

Blossom paused in lifting her hood and turned to her former teacher.

“It’s not a dream, Ms. Keane,” she answered. “And…and please don’t mention me to anyone…not…not yet at least, please.”

Frowning in confusion, but knowing that Blossom must have a good reason, the other woman consented, despite the maternal need to know everything about the girl in front of her. Smiling to herself, Ms. Keane couldn’t help her mind going back to those times when all three Powerpuff Girls came to her for advice. Such a bittersweet memory now, a memory from gentler times, when all they really had to worry about were monsters and the occasional supervillain, and the Girls were just starting to worry about normal girl things.

Now, it was only Bubbles asking advice and even then, Ms. Keane was usually the last person she came to. The blonde woman didn’t often need advice from her anymore, not with how the world had become. Normal was no longer normal.

Letting out a melancholy sigh, the raven-haired woman began leading the three superpowered adults through the aisles of the clothing department, pointing out containers full of clothes that would fit Blossom.

After picking out what she wanted (and what pieces Buttercup wanted her to wear), Blossom added to clothes to the small bin that Ms. Keane had somewhere picked up. (Her observation skills were somewhat lacking as of late and this worried Blossom.) Looking at the bin, she noted that she hadn’t picked out a lot of clothing; from the frown on Buttercup’s face, this fact hadn’t escaped her sister either. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, Blossom was happy with that amount of clothing. As she turned to Boomer to announce that they could leave, she caught a stray thought of Buttercup’s and, narrowing her eyes, whorled around to face her sister.

“Buttercup,” she warned softly, completely unconvinced by Buttercup’s attempt to look innocent. “I _know_ what you’re thinking.”

While Boomer rolled his eyes at that, Buttercup just grinned widely. “That you do.”

Nose wrinkling at the thought thrown at her, Blossom huffed, grumbling out a disgusted, “That’s vulgar.”

“I love you~,” the green puff sang, draping her arm over Blossom’s shoulder, oblivious to the confused Ms. Keane and unimpressed Boomer.

Blossom shoved her away, smiling half-heartedly.

“I know, I know,” she responded. Turning her attention to Boomer, she noted that the Resistance officer looked impassive and wondered briefly how much Bubbles had changed if _Boomer_ was acting so emotionless. “We can leave now.”

The blond man responded with a half shrug and, after saying a quick goodbye to Ms. Keane, headed towards the exit. Buttercup followed him, also giving the woman a goodbye. That left Blossom. Acting impulsively, she threw her arms around Ms. Keane.

Startled, shorter woman returned the hug nonetheless. Blossom stood there for a moment, just enjoying the warmth that Ms. Keane seemed to cause in her. She closed her eyes, letting her mind go back to those times that seemed so long ago. Now, however, wasn’t the time to dwell on what had been and what should be. Pulling back first, she gave her former teacher a watery smile, still enjoying the warm feeling in her chest.

“I’ll send your clothes to your room later, all right?” Ms. Keane told her, smiling.

“Thank you,” Blossom responded, feeling happy at the prospect of having her own clothes. The rebels practically shared everything, thus why they only had two pickup trucks of belongings. “Bye!”

She then left, hurrying to where Boomer and Buttercup were waiting. Saying a quick apology that was pretty much ignored on one part, the trio was soon weaving through the hallways again.

Though she had no idea where the Professor’s lab was, Blossom made note of certain landmarks and other unique features in the halls. Things like a computer terminal at a crossroads, or signs that only seemed to appear at junctions in hallways. From her limited exposure to it, Blossom could tell that the Resistance was hi-tech and very futuristic (or as futuristic as her limited memories let her think). There were quite a few soldiers walking around, which she wasn’t exactly surprised to see, but there seemed to be almost as many plainclothes people as well.

That did surprise her, if only a little bit. If those normal clothed people were actually soldiers, she wasn’t sure. The temptation to look into their minds was there, very, very much there, but she held back on account of their privacy. That realization that she _could_ hold back gave her pause. She hadn't noticed before, but, despite being unsure on how to use her telepathy actively, she nevertheless had good control over it subconsciously.

Another spark of worry grew at that, adding to the pile of worries her foggy memories gave her.

“There you are.”

Whipping her head around at the voice, Blossom absentmindedly rubbed her neck, despite her not getting whiplash. The voice was both familiar and not, but that didn't stop something akin to excitement bubbling in her chest.

A young woman was walking towards them, her gorgeous blonde hair tied up in a professional looking bun on the back of her head. Her dark blue military uniform was immaculate and she was holding a computer tablet in her right hand. Her gaze sat firmly on said tablet, despite her calling out to them before. She seemed almost disinterested.

As the woman walked closer, Blossom noticed that Boomer had stiffened at the sound of the woman’s voice. She glanced at him curiously, as she fixed her hood. It would not due to have someone realize who she was before this conference the Professor was planning.

“Bubbles,” Boomer responded, his voice remarkably cool.

 _“Bubbles,”_ Blossom thought, looking at her youngest sister with blatant longing.

She felt her heart constrict painfully as Bubbles merely glanced at her before staring unabashedly at Buttercup.

“And _what_ are _you_ doing here?” Bubbles snapped and Blossom was startled at the sheer steel of her voice.

Buttercup stiffened at that and her eyes narrowed into lime slits. Her fists clenched. A flicker of rage slithered through their empathetic connection.

“I decided to join the Resistance,” she responded, scowling. Bubbles raised an eyebrow in surprise, eyes widening ever so slightly. “What? Don’t want your big sister embarrassing you?”

Eyes narrowed into icy blue slits, Bubbles curled her lip at her sister.

“You are _not_ my big sister. You lost that title a long time ago.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Boomer. “Brick wants to see you ASAP.”

“Let me get these two to your dad’s and I’ll be right there,” Boomer said and, looking at his face, Blossom saw the barest hint of longing on it.

Nodding curtly, Bubbles then turned sharply and continued to ignore Buttercup as said woman made faces at her. She walked away without sparing another glance to the disguised Blossom.

The look of longing was ridiculously clear now. The pink puff felt her heart go out to the young man next to her.

“Boomer,” she murmured, gently touching his arm.

The blue-eyed man flinched at her touch and yanked his arm away. Staring at her with wide eyes that told her everything without the need of telepathy, he abruptly turned away and continued down the hallway.

Despite him once being her enemy, she found herself wishing she could do something for him. As she fumbled for the words she could say, because what _could_ she say, he seemed to collect himself. His shoulders squared.

Without turning, he said, “Let’s go.”

They continued in a half-silence as all, but Buttercup who was grumbling darkly, were quiet.

Blossom wasn’t sure how to react to this development. She had finally seen her littlest sister…and the girl who had been the sweetest, most cheerful little girl was now a steely cold woman. Tears beaded in her eyes and she clenched her hands into fists. How could this happen?

Glancing back at Buttercup, she felt the ludicrous desire to blame her. If Buttercup hadn’t said…whatever to Bubbles, Bubbles wouldn’t be this cold. If Buttercup hadn’t made the rebels and had been a Resistance officer, Bubbles wouldn’t be that emotionless woman. Biting her lip, Blossom scolded herself for being so hard on Buttercup. The person she really should be blaming was herself.

If _she_ hadn’t been so careless, none of this would have happened. If _she_ had fought against Aterex, maybe her sisters would have realized what was happening. And then none of this would have happened. Blossom would be part of the Resistance with her siblings and _she_ would be the leader that everyone trusted.

Eyes widening, Blossom wondered how her self-chastising rant had become one of jealousy. Closing her eyes and gently shaking her head, she looked down at her shoes in thought. She never realized that she had this hidden jealousy over the fact that Brick was a head officer. She knew she had acted surprised, but had she really been jealous this whole time? She hadn't even seen him yet! How _could_ she be jealous?

“Oh, Boomer! Brick wants to see you!” Blossom looked up as some soldier called out to the blue ruff. Waving absent-mindedly at the soldier, Boomer continued walking.

And then the same thing happened again.

By the time they had reached the lab, Boomer’s teeth were gritted tightly and his eyes were glowing. He had been told nearly five times after Bubbles had told him that Brick needed to talk to him. It was clear to both Blossom and Buttercup that he was less than amused. He had seemed down after talking to Bubbles, but after being repeatedly told that his eldest brother wanted to see him, the blue ruff’s mood had just plummeted. Now, the blond man was near trembling in annoyance as he punched in the code to enter the lab.

Shifting awkwardly behind him, Blossom tried looking anywhere else but him, eyes dropping to the ground, to Buttercup, to the ceiling. She kept slipping into his mind, where very graphic images of murderous intent were playing like a bad movie marathon. It wasn’t her fault that she kept doing it either. His thoughts were raging, their angry, red depths invading her mind by the sheer loudness of them.

He was annoyed at everyone. He was angry at Brick. He was angry at Blossom. He wanted to be angry at Bubbles. And he was angry at himself for these feelings he suppressed.

She closed her eyes, trying desperately to keep her mind apart from his. Dark thoughts always hurt her head. They were jagged and rough and cruel and bad, bad memories bubbled up from the familiar feeling. Red creeped behind them, staining her vision and mind with fog and mud and some dreadful feeling.

Shaking her head, the pink-eyed woman toyed with the zipper on her sweatshirt. She didn’t want to see those memories. The recognizable feeling they had…the blurry, dark contents…they all screamed something at her that she just was unwilling to hear. They revolved around something that she didn’t want to relive…something that made her tremble. Closing her eyes tightly, she took a deep breath. She was strong, not weak. No matter what that infuriating memory her mind kept bringing up said. _She was not weak._ She was not—

A ridiculously cheerful beep interrupted Blossom’s thoughts. The young woman looked up as the automated door zoomed open.

“Oh! There you are!” the Professor greeted, grinning widely as they walked up to him. “Everything go well?”

“Yes,” Blossom answered, trying to resist the urge to glance around the lab.

She had always been fascinated by the Professor’s work and had loved helping him out in his lab. There was just something about watching him work, watching him create everything from chemical reactions to machines, that had always amazed her. She hoped she would be able to see that again.

Refocusing on the Professor, she barely noticed Boomer turn to walk away. His shoulders still looked stiff and his walking was more like stomping.

The Professor noticed as well and, lifting a hand, called out to him, “Oh! Boomer!”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Throwing his arms into the air, Boomer whirled around and glared fiercely at the older man, his eyes aglow with anger. “I _know_! Brick needs to see me! HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU PEOPLE NEED TO TELL ME THAT!?”

Startled, the Professor flinched and Buttercup instinctively took a defensive position in front of him. Blossom herself had also inched in front of her father and, watching Boomer’s expression, saw quite a few emotions flit across that handsome face. Among those emotions, anger and shock were the most clear. Obviously, he himself hadn’t expected the shout to leave his mouth.

After a moment, said man’s muscles relaxed. Shoulders drooping, he ran a hand over his face. He took deep, even breaths to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured lowly, so low, in fact, that, had Buttercup and Blossom not had super-hearing, they would have not heard it.

“Whatever,” Buttercup muttered, crossing her arms, as the Professor fixed his tie.

Clearing his throat, the dark-haired man looked at Boomer with a rather fatherly expression. The sight, for whatever reason, surprised Blossom.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he said, smiling fondly at the young man. “I was going to say thank you.”

Blinking at that, the blond man flushed in embarrassment. “Oh…well, you’re welcome…”

There was a pregnant pause before Boomer turned mechanically and exited the lab. The silence persisted as the three Utoniums glanced at each other. Shuffling awkwardly and clearing his throat again, the Professor ushered the two women deeper into the lab.

“So, right. Medical examinations,” the Professor babbled, tapping randomly onto his tablet computer. He frowned a little and then looked up, turning his head. “Elmer! Come here!”

They stood there for a few moments before a breathless, bespectacled young man rushed over. He paused, catching his breath, and pulled out an inhaler, taking multiple puffs from it. Looking up, the man fixed his glasses and Blossom was astounded to see that it was indeed Elmer Sglue from her old class.

Opening her mouth to voice her surprise, she bit her tongue in her haste to close said offending body part. She still didn’t know what the Professor exactly had planned and, though she was certain that Elmer wouldn’t run for the door if she said anything, she was still reluctant to say anything. Biting her lip, she wondered when she had become so hesitant. And it wasn’t caution, this feeling she had. It was pure hesitation.

“Y-You called, P-Professor Utonium?” Elmer gasped, still taking deep breaths.

The Professor smiled warmly at the young man and then gestured to Buttercup. “Yes, Elmer. Do you think you could do Buttercup’s examination?”

“Say what now?” Buttercup turned to her father, her mouth opening wide.

Elmer’s face looked rather red and Blossom was pretty sure that it wasn’t just from the exertion of running across the laboratory. It looked like that certainly hadn't changed in the eight years she was gone.

“I’m sorry, what?” her sister reiterated, now starting to look rather angry.

Turning to her, the Professor gave Buttercup a meaningful look. “You want _me_ to do a checkup on _your friend_ , _right_ , Buttercup? So, Elmer will do your exam to save time, okay?”

Pouting, the green puff looked to Blossom, appealing to her. However, said redhead was already walking away with the Professor. Jaw dropping open, Buttercup just stared at their backs with a mixture of shock and indignation. After a moment or two, she finally noticed shuffling from next to her and turned, leering at a nervous Elmer.

Blossom winced when she heard the panicked squeak from Elmer. If she remembered correctly, and she certainly hoped she did, Buttercup had always been a little tough on poor Elmer. Then again, he had had that puppy dog crush on her sister ever since that time she had apologized to him, so many years ago. Apparently, he hadn't quite gotten over it yet. 

Shaking her head, she wondered briefly if he was a masochist. He had certainly seemed like a glutton for punishment with the way he always had chased after Buttercup, no matter how often she said to beat it. Again shaking her head, Blossom smiled a little, amused.

The Professor led her behind a curtain, where she took a seat on the bed that was there and pulled her hood off. The lab didn't seem to have walls, so much as curtains and screens that sectioned off areas. She wondered if this was the only bed here, or if there were others.

“So…it’s been…awhile since your last checkup,” the Professor said, tearing up again. Smiling warmly, Blossom reached out and took his hand into hers. Rubbing his eyes, her father took a moment to collect himself. “Right. Okay. So, I guess we’ll get the basics out of the way and then move onto examining your powers.”

“All right.”

Nodding in consent, Blossom then prepared to put on the medical gown. The Professor, thankfully, turned to give her privacy and, as she pulled on the papery dress, she couldn’t help her mind going back to the markings on her back. He would see them and she still didn’t know where they came from. He was not going to have a good reaction. That much she was sure of.

Clutching the gown tightly, she pressed her lips into a tight line. That still bothered her, how she had no idea why she had been marked. It was something to do with Aterex, but that was really all she could recall. That and the colors red and pink.

“All right. This’ll be like a normal checkup,” Professor Utonium said and Blossom obediently sat on the bed.

The examination went smoothly, for which she was grateful. From the random indignant shouts of Buttercup, she could only guess that she and Elmer were having a little bit of trouble. Which really shouldn’t surprise her, in all honesty. Buttercup hadn't really seemed very keen on a checkup, anyway, even before Elmer had stepped foot before them.

Shaking her head, Blossom sat up on the bed as instructed and flinched when the coldness of a stethoscope hit her skin. Of course, she knew she was supposed to be taking deep breaths and she did so, only she did it, not because she was instructed, but to calm her rapidly beating heart. The Professor’s hand suddenly began to shake.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed.

He gasped.

He had seen those marks. 

“B-Blossom…” His voice was hushed and she felt her nails dig into her palms as she waited for him to speak again. “These…” His fingers shook as he pulled the gown open a little more, pushing down her camisole to see more of the markings. “What… _are_ these…?”

“Markings,” she answered, holding her arms. “I…I don’t remember…why I have them…” She didn’t want to mention that she knew Aterex played a heavy role in why she had them, not when she could hear the panicked and angry thoughts of her father. “Please don’t tell anyone about them, Professor. _Please_.”

She could feel the Professor trembling and, for the second time that day, was assaulted by bitter, angry thoughts. Her father was angry that all this happened to his little girl. That she had to go through all this alone. That she had suffered and was now permanently _marked_ for whatever reason.

Blossom felt tears well in her eyes. She felt happy, despite the angry thoughts. Her father trusted her, despite her absence, and was righteously angry _for_ her. A part of her scolded herself for indulging in such recklessness, but the larger, more tired part welcomed it. She had missed her father too much to worry about his acceptance of her.

The Professor ran his fingers over her marks before sighing softly.

“Very well,” he murmured. She turned to smile at him and was greeted by a sad smile in return. “Why don’t you get dressed and then we’ll run the tests on your powers?”

The Professor left then, probably to prepare whatever he needed to for the tests.

Sighing softly, she ran her hand over her face. He had taken the markings well, all things considered, and had agreed to keep them quiet. She would eventually tell Buttercup, but she wanted to remember what they meant before she did. At the moment, anything could set her sister off, she was sure of that.

Pulling her hoodie one, she continued to contemplate her father's reaction to her, his happiness and his anger. He was taking her return well, which she supposed on one hand was good and, no matter how tired she was, her darn brain was going to analyze his reactions.

From that one time she had entered his mind, she knew he was unsure on how to take her appearance, despite the deep happiness he had at seeing her. As much as he loved seeing her, he was also wary and worried because of the unknown attached to her. They didn't know what had happened to her and neither did she. The fact that he was being cautious made her happy.

If the Professor had willingly accepted her without a doubt like Buttercup had, she would have been disappointed. She knew the Professor was her father and that he would love her despite whatever she did, but he was also an extremely intelligent man and common sense told you to not trust someone completely until they earned that trust. Especially from someone who had been gone so long without anyone knowing _where_ they had been. (When Buttercup’s trust was gained, it was gained, regardless of what happened. Unless you did something extremely horrendous, you could count on her.)

Hopefully, she would be able to gain that trust again.

Now fully dressed, Blossom walked out from behind the curtain and found Buttercup already being examined for her powers. She was in a training simulator that had been hidden behind two screens, now rolled to the side, and was flying at a great speed. Elmer was dutifully recording it and there was beep as a light green number appeared on a screen by his elbow.

Looking curiously at it, she edged closer and didn’t notice when the Professor appeared at her elbow right away. She jumped when he touched her shoulder. Turning to look at him, she found that he had his attention on his tablet computer. Curiosity taking over, she also looked at it and saw the same screen by Elmer mirrored on the tablet. There were five colored names, each with numbers listed under them. She noticed that the light green name (“BUTTERCUP”) had only three numbers, while the other four (“BRICK”, “BUTCH”, “BOOMER”, and “BUBBLES”) all had multiple.

“We’ve always known that Buttercup was the strongest of you girls, but she’s on par with Boomer and nearly as strong as Butch and Brick,” the Professor noted. “Of course that’s in upper body strength. Her kicks are as strong as Butch’s, which are just a smidge weaker than Brick’s. And her speed is on par with Butch’s normal speed. Of course, as they _are_ counterparts, I guess it’s not that surprising.”

As the Professor spoke about Buttercup’s strengths, Blossom noticed that he referred to most, if not all, of their secondary special abilities. Like how he said that Buttercup’s speed was on par with Butch’s _normal_ speed. Did that mean Butch had a speed based ability? And how Buttercup had good stamina for using her energy-based powers, but wasn’t as good as Brick or Boomer. This information intrigued her, but despite her urge to ask all she could about it, she didn’t. She was certain she would learn about those abilities sooner or later.

The Professor, as he talked, had led her to what could only be described as a large target. It was black with red, blue, and yellow rings radiating from the central white dot.

Brows furrowed in confusion, Blossom turned to her father. “What…am I supposed to do?”

The Professor tapped a few things on his handheld before responding.

“It’s a device used to measure the strength of your punches and kicks.” He looked up and then nodded. “We’ll start with punches.”

She glanced furtively back at Elmer before shuffling awkwardly towards the target.

The Professor caught on to her reluctance and smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine. I told him while you were getting dress and, though hesitant, he has promised not to tell. At least we won't have to wait long.”

Still unsure, but trusting her father’s judgment, she took a step forward and stood directly in front of the target. Taking a breath, she pulled her arm back and threw a punch at the white circle, envisioning the smirking face a certain individual. There was a moment where she let her fist stay on the dot until the Professor’s tablet computer beeped.

She relaxed her stance, turning to see the Professor looking over her result. He nodded to himself and, tapping something on the screen, he gestured for her to again attack the target. She obediently did, throwing a sharp kick to the center. There was an immediate beep this time and, upon returning to her father's side, noted that under the pink name (“BLOSSOM”) there were two numbers, one of which was higher than all of the others.

“W-Well then…” He looked stunned and he let himself stare at his pink-eyed daughter in surprise. “S-Shall we move on?”

Smiling, Blossom nodded.

For the next few minutes, the Professor ran all kinds of tests on her powers. Flying, running, dodging, and then even their energy attacks, like eyebeams and fist beams. He told her the tests showed him everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Such as Brick was the slowest of the Boys, but the most adept at flying. Bubbles was the fastest of the Girls, but weakest in punches, at least when not enraged, and had slightly less endurance. It was an efficient way to select who would do best for what mission and Blossom wondered who had come up with it.

It was maybe ten or so minutes later, as she stepped out of the training simulator, that the Professor finally announced that they were finished with the tests.

“Finally!” Buttercup cried, standing from where she had been seated. She floated over to Blossom, handing over the navy hoodie. “So…now what?”

Tapping away at his computer, the Professor looked up and smiled widely. It was safe to say the smile had a rather unhinged quality to it.

Buttercup instinctively moved in front of Blossom, despite the redhead’s rolling eyes. As much as she trusted and loved her father, he just had _that_ look. The look that usually preceded a harebrained plan, on par with DYNAMO and Powerprof.

“Now we have the conference,” the Professor said gleefully.

He pretty much looked like a little kid about to receive a huge bowl of ice cream.

“Right…you never really divulged much on that,” Buttercup responded, relaxing her protective stance and following him towards the door.

Blossom fixed her hood and followed them, Elmer a few steps in front of her. She didn't miss the slightly narrowed he threw her way either when he passed. 

Gesturing to the lab as he typed a code into the keypad by the door, the Professor said, “If you notice, only Elmer and I are in the lab. I’ve asked Brick to collect everyone in the cafeteria so I can announce that Blossom’s back.”

Butterflies instantly started dancing around Blossom’s stomach at that and she rushed to the Professor’s side. They were going to announce her presence to _everyone_? She had thought they would ease into it, start with the officers and then the civilians. A thought gave her abrupt pause.

Brick wouldn't attack her with an audience, would he? For some reason, she didn't think the thought had actually originated from herself, but she wasn't sure whose mind had come up with it.

Gulping dryly, the pink puff reached out and grabbed Buttercup’s hand in a death grip. She was not used to feeling nervous. She was the Powerpuff Leader. Nervousness led to an inability to perform heroic deeds well. However, the thought of telling _everyone_ in the Resistance that she was back and where she had been positively frightened her. Everyone had thought she was dead. Buttercup had, the Professor had, even Ms. Keane had. But learn that she had actually been held by the Narcassians and that she didn’t remember anything? If the way Boomer's reaction to her proved anything, it was that Brick would be less than happy to see her.

Buttercup squeezed her hand in reassurance as they walked down the hall. Blossom was so engrossed in her thoughts that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. Despite the sensation of walking, for all her anxiety cared she might as well have been standing still. The panic in her chest wouldn’t go away and she swallowed thickly, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Her breaths were too shallow to really succeed in that, no matter how deep she tried to breathe.

As much as she wanted to be a part of the Resistance, she was afraid of their reaction to seeing her. Most would be suspicious, she was certain of that. Both Elmer and Boomer had proven that, the scientist still eyeing her even now. The rebels had been excited because Buttercup had been excited. Ms. Keane and the Professor didn’t count for much. They were both like parents to her; they would always be excited to her, no matter what.

The rest, though? A grab bag leaning heavily towards _doubt_.

Oh, what would _Bubbles_ think?

Blossom didn’t notice they had stopped until she felt Buttercup practically crushing her fingers. Wincing, she wrenched her hand from her sister’s grip and let her eyes rise from the ground. The sight of the Professor talking with Bubbles, on whose face was a rather displeased look, greeted her. That would explain the waves of anger coming off Buttercup.

A pang of longing welled in her chest and Blossom wrapped her arms around herself tightly, trying to keep the emotion from reaching Bubbles. The pink puff could just feel a sort of subdued feeling from said blonde, but it was so slight, so suppressed, that it was almost as if it wasn’t there. She wondered how her youngest sister would react to finding out that she was back.

She hoped that she would trust her.

She hoped that Brick hadn’t had too much influence on her.

“Well, everyone’s assembled, so whenever you’re ready,” Bubbles was saying before she walked through the door behind her. She didn’t even glance at who was with the Professor.

If her heart was beating fast now, Blossom was sure it was nearly going twice that speed when the Professor said, “Ready? Let’s go.”

_“I can’t do this!”_

The panicked thought flew at Buttercup and the green puff blinked rapidly, wincing in pain. She glanced at the woman beside her as the thought registered. Throwing an arm around Blossom’s shoulders, the raven-haired woman drew her sister closer to her.

“Yes, you can,” she hissed into her ear, rubbing the skin above her left eye. “That _hurt_ you know.”

“Sorry,” Blossom said, smiling at bit at the emotions Buttercup sent her way.

Despite the fear she felt, warm waves of confidence came from her sister and that made it easier to handle. She wasn’t going to be alone when she did this. The Professor and her sister were with her. With that thought in her mind, she walked confidently into the cafeteria. Looking around, she was somewhat startled to see so many people crowded in there. The thirty-something people that encompassed the rebels had seemed a lot to her, but there had to be at least a hundred people, if not more, packed together there.

Still looking around, Blossom could see the rebels huddled close to a raised platform on one wall. The stage was maybe three feet off the ground and made of painted wood and white titles. Next to said platform, she found her other sister sitting next to Boomer and a man who looked oddly familiar…

As they neared, she realized with a jolt just _who_ exactly the man was. She knew that Boomer was good-looking. That was a given. She would also admit that she figured the other two would be just as handsome. Of course, she had also figured that seeing her counterpart after so long wouldn’t affect her.

Apparently, she was wrong.

His hair was long, pulled back into a neat low ponytail. It was still a shade or so darker than hers, closer to auburn than her more gingery locks, and looked well-groomed, completely different from when they were younger and it had been the epitome of a rat’s nest. He wore a uniform similar in design to Bubbles’, but obviously masculine and a deep burgundy color. He was sitting with his legs crossed, listening with a bored expression to whatever Butch was telling him. (It was obviously Butch talking to him. Blossom noted the forest green uniform and the physical similarities to the woman next to her.) Despite seeing him for most of her childhood, the man in front of her made her breath catch and those butterflies fly faster.

Blossom hated Brick even more for that.

Her cheeks were warm as she and her entourage walked past the table of Resistance head officers. She noticed Bubbles narrow her eyes at Buttercup and Butch throw said green puff a suggestive grin before returning to his conversation. Gulping, she let her eyes drift to the red ruff and felt her heart freeze. He was staring straight at her and, adjusting her hood, Blossom moved so that Buttercup was mostly between them. Her heartbeat had escalated again and she wondered if he could hear it. (Of course, as he _did_ have super hearing, she pretty much assumed that he could.)

Buttercup bumped their elbows together. Another wave of confidence and reassurance filled their bond.

“Well, thank you for all gathering here!” the Professor said as the two sisters positioned themselves behind him. Licking his lips, the dark-haired man cleared his throat. “I know you’re all wondering _why_ I called you here and, well, it has something to do with Blos—”

“Let me guess,” a whiny voice said, interrupting him, and Blossom frowned as a woman with a high frizzy ponytail stood up. “The rebels finally found her body and _that’s_ why they’re here.”

Glaring darkly at the woman, Buttercup snarled angrily, “She is _not_ dead, Princess!”

Princess Morbucks rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and raising a penciled eyebrow. Her thin, pale face was dusted with freckles, like Blossom remembered, and her dark auburn hair was as curly and frizzy as ever. Even her voice hadn’t changed much and the pink puff winced as the Resistance officer laughed incredulously.

“Then _why_ are you here, Butterbrain?” she asked, a smug smirk on her face. “I mean, you _did_ scream that you would _never_ listen to anyone who wasn’t _Blossom_.”

She literally spat Blossom’s name as if it was foul word and the redhead next to Buttercup frowned. Well, it looked like _that_ relationship hadn't changed much. Somehow, she wasn't surprised Princess still hated her all these years later.

“If you would just _listen—_ ” Buttercup couldn’t even finish her thought before Princess scoffed.

“Ha! A _rebel_ telling _me_ , a _Resistance officer_ , what to do? Sorry, sweetheart. No dice.” The young woman just smiled curtly at the green puff.

Buttercup’s fists lit up in green energy and Blossom instantly grabbed the back of her sister’s shirt, noticing Butch’s muscles tense as he leaned forward in what could have been a casual gesture, but was anything but. Obviously, he too was preparing for the green-eyed woman to go flying at Princess. In fact, that familiar green aura had started vaguely flickering over Buttercup’s form and Blossom tightened her grip. As much as Princess annoyed her, she was not about to allow her sister to beat the woman within an inch of her life.

“Princess.”

The way his voice, so low yet so authoritative, cut through the risen voices was mind-boggling to Blossom. Years ago, he would have pummeled them for being so noisy, but now, Brick merely glanced at Princess with those blood red eyes of his before focusing on Buttercup.

Both women visibly stiffened. Princess clicked her tongue and turned her nose up. The aura dissipated from around Buttercup, even as she growled.

When he was sure that neither woman was going to speak, he then asked, “What is it you needed to report about Pinky, Professor?”

“Oh, well.” The Professor scratched his head, turning to Buttercup.

Crossing her arms, the green puff just huffed and frowned sullenly at the wall.

At this response, her father finally turned to the last person on the stage. He knew that she was scared, even though the young woman would never admit that. That was a weakness, after all, and Blossom would never show weakness in front of so many. A reassuring look was on his features now, instead of that giddy one he had before.

This put her at ease.

Gripping the hood, she shook her head and stepped around her sister. She lifted her head high and pulled back her hood.

The room silenced.

“I’m not surprised to see you haven’t changed at all, Princess,” she said and smiled coldly at the dark-eyed woman. “By the way, I’m alive. I always have been.”


	7. Chapter 6: The Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember this chapter had some /serious/ reactions to the end, so I fixed that up a little so hopefully there won't be a repeat lol
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: Check out my Instagram, [kiebsmon](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9dE9z-l_NL/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link), for a picture of the aliens!

She was right there, but he didn’t believe it. She was close enough that if he stood and took maybe five steps forward, he could touch her. But she couldn’t be here. She was dead, wasn’t she? Except... They had never found the body. They had never found a trace of her. No blood, not a hide nor hair. She _could_ have been incinerated, but he had highly doubted that. So where had she been? No…if they never found her and the rebels nor another Resistance branch had had her, that left only one other option…

Was this what Boomer had been trying to tell him earlier?

His surprise was short-lived and Brick fixed Blossom with a steely leer. He could feel the familiar feeling of hate flood his veins at the mere sight of her, something akin fizzling _heat_ that rushed through his limbs. How dare she stand there, a smug look on her face, and pretend that she could easily become a part of _his_ Resistance. She was gone for too long. She was no longer their shining beacon. She had _abandoned_ them all. And if she had been where he thought she had been…

Brick gritted his teeth in displeasure, in anger, _in hatred_. The hot feeling in his veins was so familiar and something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He knew what it was. Of course, he knew what it was. He had felt it every time he had laid his eyes on the woman standing before him for _many_ years. His fingers twitched. Heat began to gather in his chest, _in his throat_.

He took a deep, deep breath.

As he focused on controlling this feeling, trying to keep himself seated and nonchalant, Princess exclaimed in disbelief, “B-B-Blossom!?”

A vindictive and victorious smirk formed on Buttercup’s face as she crossed her arms. She looked very haughty as she looked down at the officer. “ _Who’s_ dead, Prince-ass?”

Cheeks flushed, Princess didn’t have a chance to answer as, from an almost imperceptible nod from Brick, Bubbles alighted on the stage. She stood directly in front of Blossom and the redhead stared back at her. She could feel the emotions raging and boiling inside of her blonde sister, but nothing was betrayed on that pale, beautiful face of hers.

They stared at each other for a whole minute before Bubbles asked in the most enthralling of voices, “Tell me the truth. Who are you? List any and all names, aliases, and titles.”

“My name is Blossom Utonium, creation and daughter of Professor John B. Utonium, sister of Bubbles Utonium and Buttercup Utonium,” she responded, not fully comprehending why she was saying all of this. “Leader of the Powerpuff Girls, defenders of the City of Townsville, counterpart of the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys, Brick Jojo. There was once a time where I went by the name of Liberty Bell, but that was short-lived.”

She said all this without much feeling, though something told her she should be worried about how willingly she had. This was information that she would willingly give up, but the way she said it… Something felt off. Frowning, she focused on Bubbles’ eyes and, despite her moral sense telling her not to, prepared to read her sister’s mind.

However, before she could do so, Bubbles was again asking her something in that very enticing voice.

“Where have you been for the last eight years?”

There was a hint of hesitation and apprehension in her voice now. It didn’t mar the strange, alluring tone of it, though. If anything, it made it even more alluring, but Blossom was strangely incoherent to this fact.

A wave of apprehension hit her, but if it was from herself, Buttercup, or Bubbles, she wasn’t sure. She knew that at least a little part was from herself, but how much that little part was, she had no idea. She also knew that she had a reason to be hesitant about telling Bubbles where she had been, but her mind was fuzzy.

A familiar kind of fuzzy that set alarm bells off in her head and panic add to the apprehension in her heart. At the same time, she felt perfectly at ease, if only because of that lovely voice. It really was a lovely voice, Bubbles had been thinking of joining choir that summer so many years ago, and time had only been good to her. Blossom could almost ignore the fuzzy feeling, could almost ignore the alarms going through her mind as she focused on her sister's voice.

She _knew_ she had felt that almost feeling of ease before, but couldn’t place where. A flicker of red passed her vision and it had nothing to do with the man sitting before her. The lovely feeling muffled the dread that threatened to curl up her throat.

Her stomach felt like it was knotting. She took deep breaths in an attempt to fix it so she could answer her sister.

“I…was taken by the aliens,” Blossom finally answered, pressing the heel of her right hand to the spot just above her right eye as a strong throb hit her. The low rumblings from the amassed people present most likely caused this. “And I don’t… I can’t remember anything else…”

Stunned, Bubbles was silent for a moment before asking softly, her voice losing some of its alluring quality, “You remember nothing?”

Looking at her with weary eyes, the blonde woman was surprised to see how… _defeated_ Blossom appeared. It wasn’t clear on her face and it was barely visible in her eyes, but for someone who had grown up with her, _who had been born with her,_ it was more than apparent. Despite the cold, ironclad defenses she had raised over the years, Bubbles felt the familiar throb in her chest. Her leader—

Closing her eyes, she mentally shook her head.

No. Her _ex-leader_ had never shown that she was defeated. Never. Not when facing Mojo for the first time, not when facing the Rowdyruff Boys, not even with _Him_. She did not show defeat.

Something terrible must have happened.

“Nothing that would prove useful,” Blossom answered quietly. She sighed and spoke before Bubbles could ask what she remembered. “I remembered they…fed me well. And that…” She closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus on the gray, fluid-like memories. “And that dark me… _Berserk_.” She spoke the name with enough venom that even Princess was wincing. “She was with me a lot. But I…I don’t know why.”

Still shocked, Bubbles, almost unwillingly, turned to see Brick’s reaction.

The Resistance leader’s face was painfully blank, but he was leaning forward as if to better hear what Blossom said. His mouth was pressed against his folded hands, his red gaze narrowed at the stage. There was a flicker in those eyes, but she couldn't read it. It had been a while since she couldn't read him. Moving her eyes from his face, she noticed just how tense his muscles were, just how still he held himself. It looked, if one really looked, as if he was awaiting an attack.

Bubbles knew why, of course. Unlike her and Buttercup (and she resentfully acknowledged this fact), both of whom had pretty consistent exposure to their counterparts, Brick had had no exposure to Blossom in ten years. Thus was why his body tensed, immediately ready for battle, ready to _fight_ , at the mere sound of the pink-eyed woman’s voice.

Pulling her gaze from Brick, Bubbles refocused on Blossom. For the most part, she looked the same. Older, yes, more beautiful, definitely, but still the same. Same long red hair, same straight posture, same analytical pink eyes. The look in those eyes, though, that was not the same. That scared and defeated look was not meant to be on her face. It was wrong. Her sister was never scared nor defeated in her memories. No matter what had happened, Blossom had always managed to figure something out, but that had been years ago and the woman before her was very much a stranger to her now.

_“Am I really a stranger, Bubbles?”_

Eyes widening, Bubbles felt her mouth open. She had been watching Blossom’s face and, though she heard her ask that, her mouth had not moved.

“…how did you do that?” she asked, her voice hushed, the alluring quality now gone.

She knew that she should raise her voice, should make it so that everyone could hear, but she didn’t want the shock in it to be made known. She had her pride, too, and Blossom's voice in her head was not something she wanted to share.

She would pretend that that she hadn't had the voice in her head for years now, helping her along the way despite her sister's absence.

Sighing softly and pushing some hair behind her ear, Blossom responded in a clear voice, “My second ability is telepathy. Not only can I read minds, I have the ability to project my thoughts into a limit of two people at a time.” Her lips quirked a bit and she gave her youngest sister a half-smile. “I suppose that limit may have something to do with the empathy link the three of us share.”

“Wait! You can read our minds!?” Princess exclaimed, sounding rather fearful.

The pink-eyed woman found this strange, despite knowing Princess’ personality. If she was part of the Resistance, learning that the Powerpuff leader could read minds shouldn’t be too much of a shock. After all, the Narcassians had a plethora of abilities. While she hadn't personally met anyone else with _telepathy_ and her memories were still murky, at least half of the Narcassian populace had a special ability. Maybe her distress was because it was Blossom?

The frizzy haired woman took an unwilling step back as Blossom moved a bit to focus her eyes on her. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a little.

“Yes. I can read your mind,” she answered, eyes glittering in dark amusement. Her brow furrowed and she shifted her gaze from Princess to Brick. “I don’t believe you should be having such fantasies about your superior officer.”

Princess flushed in embarrassment as multiple people, including Butch and most of the rebels, laughed at her predicament. She grumbled darkly and fixed a glare on Blossom, hating the smirk on the pink-eyed woman’s face. She couldn’t be the only one who had those thoughts about Brick. Hell, she knew that at least three other female officers in his unit had those thoughts. They had told her themselves, after all. Besides, who wouldn’t have those kinds of thoughts about the man? He was _gorgeous_.

Even Blossom would have those kinds of thoughts after a day or so with Brick. Princess was almost sure of that.

“Please. Don’t be vulgar,” Blossom responded and Princess flushed again, realizing that she had, yet again, read her thoughts.

“W-Whatever,” the officer snapped, looking away huffily. “At least I’m not the one breaking your precious little counterpart thing.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Blossom frowned at this. What did Princess mean by that? Was Bubbles in a relationship with Butch or Brick? What did that matter?

Said blonde-haired woman had whipped around before Princess had even finished what she was saying and Blossom cast a curious glance at her sister. Outside of fighting, the Girls hadn’t thought much of the whole counterpart thing seeing as they tried not to dwell on the Rowdyruff Boys. It shouldn’t, and didn’t, matter to her whether or not Bubbles was with her or Buttercup’s counterpart. Not that she wasn’t curious, she was, oh, she was, but if Butch or Brick was the one that Bubbles wanted, Blossom was fine with that.

“Now is not the time for gossip, Princess,” Bubbles hissed coldly, blue eyes flashing.

“It may be gossip, but you have to admit, you two are rather _cozy_ ,” the frizzy haired woman said, widening her eyes to feign innocence. “And isn’t he _your_ superior officer too?”

Blossom felt a sharp throb in her chest. 

Startled by the strange feeling, the redhead felt her gaze move from Princess to Bubbles and then finally to Brick. Now staring at her counterpart, she realized that _he_ was the superior officer Princess was referring to. The sharp pain happened again and Blossom, for the life of her, had no idea what it was. It shouldn’t matter to her if Bubbles and Brick were together and she didn't _care_ about their "counterpart thing".

She did not like that sting in her chest and chose to glare at said officer. Weird feelings aside, if Bubbles liked him, he had better treat her properly. She hoped she conveyed that with her gaze, refusing to even fancy the idea of sending a thought to him. That would be too intimate for her taut muscles to take.

“That is enough, Princess.” Brick’s eyes were dark as he pulled his gaze away from Blossom. He stared a moment at the thin woman, before standing. “This conference is adjourned. Bubbles, take your sister to her room.”

“Yes, sir.” Bubbles saluted Brick and that irked Blossom.

She didn’t like how loyal her baby sister was to her archrival. Fixing him with another, darker glare, the pink puff crossed her arms, her chest still throbbing weirdly and the butterflies again fluttering helplessly when Brick turned to her again. His look was painfully blank and she found herself wishing for some emotion, even hatred, to make those dark red eyes burn.

Startled by that ludicrous longing, Blossom shook her head. She turned her gaze away despite the scowl at her unintended show of submission. She was more focused on whatever was _wrong_ with her suddenly to care if he took that to mean she was giving submission of _any_ type to him. If he thought so, he would be _incredibly wrong_. 

Brick continued to stare at Blossom, committing the woman’s features to memory. She still looked like when he had last seen her. Yes, less pumpkin-headed and with digits now and defined facial features, but still similar. Long, shiny hair, a scowl on her face, pink eyes that flashed with ice, and that insufferable _bow_ on top of her head. It was ridiculous how much hadn't changed over the years. The burn in his blood certainly hadn't, filling his chest with hatred. Flames still curled in his stomach at the mere sight of her. He knew he would have to tolerate her for a while, but his hatred for the goody-goody had always been much stronger than his brothers’ had been.

Taking a breath, he ripped his gaze from her as she shook her head. Yes, he would have to learn to tolerate her, but he would not allow her to become an officer. He didn’t think she was trustworthy. Taken by aliens, _indeed_.

Turning, Brick left the cafeteria, Boomer on his heels. Bubbles watched him for a moment, before turning to Blossom. The redhead was also watching her counterpart, eyes unreadable, before she turned to the blue puff.

Sighing softly, knowing that her sister was going to be painfully cold to her, she smiled bravely at the blue-eyed woman. As much as it pained her to see her sweet little sister loyal to her one of her worst enemies, she decided to show her that she wasn’t upset by that choice. After all, it was she and Buttercup who had left Bubbles alone and circumstances had changed.

“Come on then,” the blue puff said, walking off the stage.

Blossom followed her, noticing that Buttercup was just a few steps behind her. It gave her an odd sense of completeness as they needled their way through the crowd and out the doors. Her sisters and she were together again.

Sure, two hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade, she wasn’t sure how much they had changed, and one considered her a threat, but it was nice that all three of them were together all the same. Even considering the circumstances, it was nice.

“So…you and Brick are ‘cozy’, huh?” Buttercup remarked and Bubbles whirled around, causing Blossom to stumble to a stop.

“And if we were, what does it matter to _you_?” the blue-eyed woman snapped, scowling at her dark-haired sister. Said woman merely raised an eyebrow and the blonde turned around, growling out, “No. There is nothing between me and Brick.”

“You sound upset about that,” Buttercup remarked and Blossom looked sharply at her green-eyed sister.

“ _I am not upset_ ,” Bubbles snarled as she stalked down the hallway. 

Buttercup seemed oblivious to the anger radiating off the young woman, but with the fiery pangs coming through their empathetic link, Blossom was pretty sure that she was merely pretending. The anger was quite clear, the sharpest of the muted emotions from the blue puff.

With the anger, of course, came those piercing, red thoughts that stung her mind as they inundated it with their rage. Her breathing picked up with the pain, her vision blurring for a moment. Blearily blinking her eyes, she tried her best to keep the thoughts out. Maybe that was punishment for wanting to invade her sister's mind earlier.

“You sure? I mean, Brick _is_ pretty hot and _damn_ that body of his…” Buttercup let her voice trail off as Bubbles’ shoulders stiffened.

The blonde let out an aggravated sigh, clenching her fists. “There is nothing between me and Brick. I am merely his assistant and nothing more. I am _not_ his lover."

“Never said you were his lo—"

The deadly calmness of Blossom’s voice cut her off.

“Enough, Buttercup,” she said softly, eyes glued onto Bubbles’ back. As curious as she was, the way her sister was tensing did not sit well with her. When they had been younger and Buttercup had teased Bubbles, the young woman’s muscles had never been this tense. No, this tension was too similar to when Bubbles had fought. “It doesn’t matter who Bubbles is or isn’t with.”

Buttercup huffed, crossing her arms. “Aw, c’mon, Bloss! Like you don’t think this is a juicy bit of gossip.”

Snorting, the red-haired woman raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Since when did _you_ care about such trivial things as _gossip_?”

“Hey—” And again, Buttercup was cut off.

“You two seem rather close,” Bubbles remarked, turning to the left.

Her sisters followed her and Buttercup frowned. “She’s our sister. Of course we’re close.”

“Yes, she is our sister,” the blonde conceded. “But she’s been gone for eight years. Not to mention the fact that she was _being held by the aliens_.”

Snarling, Buttercup glared at their youngest sister. “So!? You’ve been working with _Mojo_ for eight years. You don’t see me getting up in _your_ face because of that.”

“Mojo pledged to help get rid of the aliens,” Bubbles responded heatedly, only causing her green sister to snort.

“Yeah, get rid of them and then take over the world for himself,” she said darkly and the blonde threw a dirty look at her over her shoulder. “Hey, I only speak the truth.”

Blossom watched as her sisters argued, torn between being worried and amused. She knew that they hadn’t spoken for those eight years she had been gone and that any contact, she was sure, escalated into an argument such as what was now happening. On the other hand, watching them argue with each other was a familiar experience. The two women had always argued when they were younger. Of course, Buttercup had always been highly argumentative and made it an art of getting into arguments with both Bubbles and Blossom.

As their argument became a game of who could call the other something worse, Bubbles continued to lead them through the halls. Debating whether to interrupt the dispute, Blossom noticed a sign designating living quarters hanging from the ceiling as they made a right turn. In front of them now was an automated door and Bubbles typed in a code, all the while still arguing with Buttercup. The door opened with a pneumatic hiss and they walked through.

If Blossom was expecting anything fancy, she was disappointed.

Except for a change in color (from bright white, gray, and neon blue to umber, dark brown, and orange), nothing much had changed. The three women were still in a hall, but that hall opened up into a large commons. There was a small garden in the center of said area, lit by what looked like a large sunlamp, and there were multiple hallways branching off from it. The open area extended three floors (which Blossom didn’t even realize there even were) and doors and more hallways could be seen from the floor of the common area.

Bubbles was stalking towards a hall on the right, still heatedly squabbling with Buttercup. Blossom followed slowly after, still taking in the sights of the commons. She was a little upset that there wasn't a skylight, but considering how unsafe that would be, she supposed the sunlamp made an adequate replacement.

The hallway took them past multiple doors until they finally reached one that had three circles on the door in green, a dark pinkish color, and blue. The argument between Bubbles and Buttercup had persisted until the door and it was finally grating on Blossom’s nerves. The nostalgic feeling was gone and had been replaced by annoyance.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, the pink-eyed woman focused on her bickering siblings. Her eyes darkened, as they didn't seem to notice her displeasure.

“Can you two _please_ stop?” she asked in a low voice. When neither stopped or acknowledged her, she spoke authoritatively, “Buttercup. Bubbles.”

Immediately the two quieted and Blossom let a satisfied smile form on her face. It was very pleasing to see that her sisters still responded to her authority.

Of course, Bubbles was soon shaking her head and finished typing in the pass-code for the door as Buttercup raised an eyebrow at her redheaded sister. Smiling pleasantly in response, she redirected her attention to the open door.

“This is our… _apartment_ , for lack of better terms,” Bubbles said, waving her hand at the small living room. There was a couch, a loveseat, and a recliner in front of a large, flat-screen television with a black coffee table dead in the middle. There was also a bookshelf in the corner with a few books on it and mini-fridge on the bottom shelf.

Across from the entrance were three doors, each one being one of the signature colors of the Girls. On the left was a light blue one, in the middle a pink one, and on the right a light green one. Each door had a keypad next to it and, as the blue puff typed in a code on the pink door’s keypad, something on her person beeped.

Frowning, Bubbles’ eyes dropped to her communicator and she pulled out the cell phone-like device as Blossom walked into the room.

The rosy-eyed woman looked around, taking in everything. There was a bed in a small alcove on one side, covered in a pink and red comforter, on which sat her container of clothes from Ms. Keane. Next to the bed, but against the back wall, was a desk made of a light-colored wood. There was very little on the desk, save a red penholder and a dark magenta knit bag that Blossom recognized as the one that Mrs. Cavadini had given her. The Resistance soldiers had moved the rebels’ possessions in already, then. Walking over to the desk, Blossom noted the open door leading to the bathroom and a dresser on the wall by the door to the living room.

Someone cleared their throat and the redhead turned to see Bubbles watching her with an unreadable look.

“I have a meeting and have to take Buttercup with me,” she said and Buttercup looked surprised at that. “Do _not_ leave your room.”

Measuring her sister’s expression, Blossom slowly nodded. “Okay.”

Nodding, Bubbles continued to stare at her for a few more moments before turning. “Come on, Buttercup.”

As Buttercup made a face at their younger sister, Blossom caught a stray thought from the blue puff. A thought that made her feel warm and surprised at the same time.

_“I missed you, Blossom.”_

Blinking in surprise, she found herself blushing lightly as she watched her two sisters walk towards the front door. Nevertheless, a smile grew on her face.

Taking a breath, she called out, “I missed you too, Bubbles.”

Her youngest sister paused before disappearing through the door.

Buttercup threw her a confused look before following the blonde. The pink puff just smiled at the door, sighing contently as she laid a hand on her crate of clothes. That small hesitation of Bubbles’ had made her chest feel that much warmer than it had before.

* * *

“I DO _NOT_ WANT HER HERE!”

Princess was screaming at the top of her lungs as the two sisters entered Conference Room B. It was a larger room, covering in dark panels and home to a single, long table with about twelve chairs around it. The room apparently also had wonderful acoustics.

Immediately, Buttercup slapped her hands over her ears as the shouting continued. It wasn’t even solely from Princess, either. There were other Resistance commanding officers screaming at each other, each trying to prove that the other’s logic was wrong. Butch’s voice could be heard ringing out every now and then, mostly contributing with an insult or swear than anything helpful. Occasionally, the Professor, from behind Brick’s chair, would attempt to speak, but his voice would die when Princess would send him a scathing glare. It was safe to say that it was complete pandemonium in the room.

Despite the noise level in the conference room being near deafening, Brick remained unaffected by it. He sat in his chair, eyes on the gathered people, but not truly seeing them. He didn’t even notice Bubbles walk over and take a chair by him loyally or Buttercup beeline for Mitch, standing by a smirking Butch. His mind was miles away, still turning over the fact that his counterpart was alive.

He didn’t want to believe it, no matter what his eyes had told him. It was too surreal, too much like some sick dream. It almost made him wonder if Him had decided to show up after so long and was twisting his mind into believing this warped reality. Because it had to be some kind of mind game, there was no way that she could be here.

And yet, his body still felt tense. A fire still burned in his chest and stomach and throat. If he looked down at his hands, they had repeatedly been clenching, trying to release energy and the desire to _punch_ something. He breathed deeply.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the noise in the room suddenly came rushing at him and tore away his tangled thoughts. Teeth gritting as the clamor assaulted his ears, he found himself experiencing a grievous headache. Just the icing to his nightmare of a day. He growled angrily, a guttural noise that was hidden by the racket of voices.

However, both Bubbles and Boomer had heard it quite clearly and the two glanced at their superior officer as his crimson eyes began glowing softly. Almost involuntarily, they shared a look as Brick let out an aggravated sigh through his nose and lowered his hand to the table, pushing down as he stood soundlessly.

Red eyes glaring at the angry people who didn't notice that he had stood, Brick barked in a loud voice, “ _ENOUGH._ ”

Instantly, there was silence and the amassed officers turned to their leader with wide eyes. He regarded them darkly before shifting his gaze and focusing on Buttercup.

The rebel leader unwillingly gulped, shrinking back a bit as the full force of his gaze bore into her. She wondered briefly how Blossom managed to not cringe back whenever he glared at her with those bloody eyes. Then again, she reasoned, Blossom never had to face _this_ Brick, only a younger, less powerful version, one with less stress and worries.

“Hi,” she said, trying not to let fear color her voice as Brick glowered at her.

“How long has Pinky been in your care?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Shifting a bit, the green puff glanced at Mitch and said, “Three weeks.”

The look on Brick’s face darkened at that answer and multiple officers took several steps back.

Teeth gritting, the red ruff growled out, “ _Three weeks_?”

“Hey! I’m not the one who found the ice! Butch was!” she snapped, oblivious to Butch’s attempts to shush her. At the sound of a slap, she turned to find her counterpart covering his eyes with his hand. “What’s with you?”

“ _What ice_?”

This question was significantly angrier than the last and Buttercup winced, realizing her mistake. Looking at Butch, she finally understood that he had _not_ told Brick like she thought he had. Another wince and she turned back to the general. He looked positively livid and his eyes were literally glowing in his anger. In fact, he was so angry his eyes were nearly entirely red.

Cringing back a bit, her only solace was that his attention was no longer trained on her.

Her counterpart, however, wasn’t as lucky.

“ _Butch_?” Brick stressed his brother’s name as his eyes bore into the green ruff.

“Three weeks ago, my unit was returning from the field, as you ordered,” Butch obediently recited, not breaking eye contact with his less than happy brother. “We were ambushed close to the rebels’ base by a squad led by the Powerpunks.” Brick’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the punks. “Before any fighting could begin though, a wall of ice appeared. Berserk flew somewhere then came back and called for a retreat. And that’s it.”

Brick took a breath, eyes fluttering closed. He rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing in his head. Not only had Blossom been around for three weeks with the rebels, _who hadn’t told them a thing_ , Butch also had encountered his pink-eyed counterpart.

“Yeah, the ice is still around, by the way,” Mitch put in, yelping when Buttercup pinched his arm. “OW! Goddamn it, BC!”

Sighing deeply, Brick opened those red eyes of his and focused on the rebel leaders. His eyes still glowed, but at least he didn't look like he was about to barbecue them.

“The ice…is still around?” he asked slowly.

Grumbling, Buttercup nodded. “Yeah. The Gangreen Gang brought us a chunk. It’s in one of the coolers we brought with us.”

“Blossom’s ice lasted this long? Fascinating,” the Professor finally spoke, moving forward so that he could see his middle daughter better. “It lasted three weeks? Before, when you were younger, it barely lasted two days! Did it really last this long?”

“Yup,” she said, shrugging. “Hey, all of our powers strengthened. If I can create a hurricane, why can’t Blossom create permafrost?”

“…you _can’t_ create a hurricane,” Mitch pointed out, only to be hit again.

“I probably can. I never tried.”

“Well, when you do try, I’m going to be somewhere far, far away.”

“…thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re—”

“SHUT UP!” Princess screeched. She glared at the two rebels, before whipping towards the Professor. “How did Pinky Pie even get in!?”

Professor Utonium shifted uncomfortably, glancing nervously at Boomer before clearing his throat. “I, um, I was working in the Scanning Room and might have, uh, deleted the alert saying that Blossom had passed through the scanner…”

There was silence as his words were absorbed.

Princess stared at him with her mouth agape before making an undignified noise in her throat. Fingers curling into fists, one hand inched to the blade holster on her thigh. However, her fingers stopped halfway there as Brick narrowed his eyes at her. Scowling, the young woman crossed her arms, glaring between Brick, the Professor, and Buttercup, the last of which was glaring back at her.

“So you _let_ her in?” she asked, glaring daggers at the dark-haired man. He nodded meekly, eyes darting between Princess and the still rather angry Brick mere inches from his person. “You…you… _let_ in a possibly harmful person!?”

“Hey! Blossom hasn’t done anything that could be considered harmful the whole time she was with us!” Buttercup snapped before her father could speak. “Maybe if you stopped vilifying her—!”

“Ooh! I didn’t know you knew such big words like ‘vilify’, Butterbrain!” Princess snapped back, eyes dancing maliciously. “And what about Emmons? She froze him!”

Making a strangled noise, the green puff snarled, “ _Your fucking soldier attacked my sister_! She was defending herself! And besides, he’s still alive, just, y’know, frozen…”

“Ugh. So what? She’s still a threat.” The way Princess rolled her eyes only served to anger Buttercup more. “If you weren’t such a—”

“What Princess means to say is that we have to treat Blossom with a healthy dose of suspicion,” Boomer interrupted, glancing at Brick to see if he was saying the right thing. When his brother made no move to stop him, he continued, “The fact is…she was with the aliens and she doesn’t remember a thing. How do we know that she won’t breakdown and start attacking people? How do we know she’s not faking it? We don’t, so that’s why we’re being so critical of her.”

Silence again reigned in the room as Buttercup took deep breaths to calm herself.

After a moment, she choked out, “Critical? This is you being fucking _critical_? _You’re fucking crucifying her_! You—!”

Before she could jump into another rant, Brick cut her off, “I have to keep the people in this facility safe. If I have to condemn Pinky as a threat, then I will. Understand that, Buttercup. Until further notice, _your sister is a fucking threat._ ”

Green eyes widening, Buttercup felt her mouth drop open. Sure, she knew that he would be immovable, but she hadn’t expected him to drop the case so quickly. She had expected him to look over the accounts that she and the rebels would give. She had expected him to be fairer. She had expected him to not act like a stuck-up prick.

This wasn’t going as planned. It wasn’t going right. Everything was happening way too fast and-and he wasn't even going to talk to Blossom! To let her vouch for herself! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Some part of her, some annoyingly logical part that sounded suspiciously like Blossom, told her that nothing always went as planned. (After all, Blossom would know, wouldn’t she?)

Mouth opening and closing, she continued to stare at Brick, trying to figure out what to say. The ruff merely watched her with an unreadable expression and then, as he sat down, she knew what to say.

“It’s because you hate her.”

It was childish and immature and she knew it, but it was the first thing that had come to her mind.

Brick’s eyes flashed as he looked at Buttercup. “Excuse me?”

“You won’t listen to what I have to say because you hate Blossom,” she said with conviction, feeling like she was about to cry for some reason. “You all think she’s faking having amnesia. She’s not. _She’s not_. You weren’t there the first time she said Aterex’s name. You weren’t there all those times she tried to remember something. You don’t _know_ what it’s like, watching her, not being able to help. _You don’t fucking know how it feels, watching someone who was so strong struggle just to remember what the fuck happened to her_!”

He merely watched her with a blank look and, as she stood there panting, he asked in the blandest of voices, “Are you quite done?”

Fists clenching, her eyes blazed brilliant green. “No, I’m not quite fucking done, but you’ve already decided anyway, so why bother?”

Glaring at him, she blasted a hole in his chair with her eyebeams and stormed out of the room, dodging Butch’s grasp.

The green ruff moved to follow her, but from Brick’s command (“No”), he stayed put. Glancing between the door and his brother, Butch looked conflicted. He crossed his arms finally with a frown.

Brick, on the other hand, looked perfectly unruffled and merely massaged his temple, ignoring the steaming hole in his very comfortable chair. He sighed.

“Everyone is dismissed,” he said in a tired voice.

The convened officers jumped at his voice and, after multiple glances to see if he said anything else, slowly prepared to leave. The only noise for a few minutes was of the officers moving about and leaving.

For that lack of clamor, Brick was thankful. His mind was painfully full of everything that had transpired in little more than an hour. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dull the still glaring headache. What was he to do? For all of his knowledge and power, he honestly had no idea how to take Blossom’s reappearance. He knew that she was to be handled with hazmat gloves, screw kid’s gloves. But how exactly he was to treat her…he just wasn’t sure.

Buttercup wanted him to treat her like normal, but normal between him and _her_ was… Well, it wasn't good. His skin still felt too hot, too tight, even though she wasn't even in the room anymore. Princess and half of the other officers wanted her stripped of her powers and locked away. As much as he could agree with that, the very _idea_ of _his_ counterpart being without her powers made him sick. His head throbbed even more at that.

Frowning, without opening his eyes, he asked, “Why are you still here?”

“I wanted to see if I could help any.”

Sighing and reluctantly opening his eyes, he focused on the straggler. “And what do you propose you can help with, Lieutenant Utonium?”

Smiling a bit at his forced light tone, Bubbles placed a hand on Brick’s cheek. “I don’t know…why don’t you tell me?”

Watching her, Brick took her hand and brought it down to the tabletop. He didn't let it go, gently squeezing it as if it was the only thing tethering him to the present. With how lost he could get in his thoughts, Bubbles didn't doubt that that might be the case.

The look in his eyes was painfully like the one that Blossom had and Bubbles found herself desperately trying to keep the hardened walls around her heart intact. She knew that she and her sisters shared physical similarities with the ruffs, but that look, that weary defeated look, in his eyes was too similar to the one that Blossom had had only an hour previous. Her chest stung to see _both_ her leaders with that look. It hadn’t looked right on Blossom’s face and it certainly didn’t look right on Brick’s.

Neither of them moved for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. She awaited his answer to her question, her hand still captured in his grasp.

After another painfully quiet moment, Brick closed his eyes and murmured softly, “I don’t know either…”


	8. Chapter 7: Benefit of a Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy White Day! Here's the next chapter of Storm, a gift from me to you, lovely readers!
> 
> Enjoy!

The next morning, Buttercup was still angry.

However, despite her sharing an empathy link with the woman and having telepathy, Blossom wasn’t sure _why_ she was angry. Her younger sister’s thoughts were rolling and raging, like waves on a stormy sea, with no clear picture of what caused her anger. Her thoughts were little more than furious red flashes of faces and words, things too brief and too disjointed for her to get a clear picture.

She sighed deeply as those irate thoughts scraped at her mind. It seemed as if she couldn’t escape from the angry thoughts, especially now that they were in the Resistance. After that conference the other day, a mix of anger and uncertainty permeated the thoughts of just about everyone. Dinner had been an affair of stiff shoulders and tense backs, where she barely had eaten before she took her meal and returned to her apartment. The rebels had been more than willing to follow her and she didn't have to turn to see the looks they were giving everyone.

The thoughts that filled that room had suffocated her. There weren't as many rebels so she had been able to ignore their thoughts, but now, with so many people and so many opinions, it was hard to escape the anger and fear and suspicion. Their red darkness just made memories surface that had no shape or meaning, which worsened everything. Flashes of fury and irascibility beget more fury and irascibility, amorphous and red and confusing.

Covering her mouth as she yawned, Blossom glanced at her sister. When Buttercup had stormed into her room that morning, the redhead had expected a flood of angry insults and a rant on someone (most likely Butch). Instead, the dark-haired woman had just sat on her bed, watching her finish getting ready and then dragged her out of the apartment when she was. They were now walking down a hall and her green sister’s face was still set in a deadly dark look, scaring most, if not all, of the people they ran into. She wanted to ask her what was wrong, but Blossom was unsure how to say it now. It had been so long ago since she had to soothe one of her sisters.

“Let’s train.”

Jumping slightly, she turned to her sister in surprised. “Come again?”

“Train. Last night, before I got back, I found the training room.” Buttercup’s face suddenly seemed less dark and a familiar eager glint was in her bright green eyes. “It has a training simulator. So let’s spar. I want to see if those al—”

She abruptly stopped herself, glancing nervously at Blossom.

The redhead was staring ahead blankly, her mind tickling her with faded, dull memories. They were so close, just blurry enough that if she squinted maybe…just maybe she could—

She shook her head, clearing away the sudden persistent fog of those memories. She didn’t know how important the memory was nor if it held anything of worth to her, but she’d rather not have Buttercup go all mother hen on her again. As much as she loved her, the woman could be a little suffocating at times.

Forcing a smile on her face, Blossom turned to her sister.

“Why not? I could use a good sparring session,” she said, trying to keep the haunted look from her eyes.

Buttercup paused, searching her face, before grinning widely and taking her hand. “Come on then!”

“W-Wait!” she cried as the other woman flew down the halls with her in tow. “What about breakfast!?”

“I wanna work up an appetite!” her sister responded, skidding to a stop in front of a door. “Tadah! The training room!”

Gasping slightly, Blossom looked up at the typical gray and blue door in front of her. She frowned as Buttercup pressed a button and the door slid open. Pulling her fingers through her hair to fix it, she followed her sister through the door. She allowed herself to look impressed at what greeted her.

The room was large and full of mostly weights, treadmills, and similar equipment. The different equipment was even split into sections, with weights and weight-lifting equipment in one area, treadmills and elliptical equipment in another, and the rest in others still. The room’s walls were white and bright lights shone down on the few people already there. A small second floor looked over everything, but she didn't have a good enough angle to see what was up there.

Buttercup floated through the room, letting a wide grin form on her face. She looked positively giddy at all the equipment and, eyes landing on the simulator, she let out a rather manic chuckle. It had been ages since she was in a training simulator. Well, not ages as she had been in one the other day, but ages since she used one to actually train and kick monster ass. Flexing her fists, ignoring the green energy gathering in her palms, she hovered up to the door and regarded the technician there with bright, bright lime green eyes.

“Yo! Set us up for an empty field,” Buttercup said as Blossom joined her.

She gestured to the redhead with her thumb. The technician, staring at both with wide eyes, suddenly regarded something on the computer screen in front of him.

“U-Um…I-I…um, s-she’s not allowed…in the training simulator,” he stuttered, making a motion towards Blossom.

He cowered as Buttercup’s eyes flashed.

“And why _not_?” she growled, the green energy engulfing her fists.

Her sister instantly gripped her arm and the green puff flinched as the sudden cold of ice hit her skin.

The techie bit his lip before swallowing nervously. He even tugged at his collar as he did so.

“G-General B-Brick’s orders, m-miss,” he practically whispered as she glared down at him.

Buttercup stared at him blankly for a moment, making the technician shake even more, before she bolted from the room with a snarl and Blossom on her heels.

The pink puff tried her best to keep up with her sister, fruitlessly attempting to grab her arm or shirt. Anger was billowing off her in waves and she tried to keep the red thoughts from burrowing into her mind. Try as she might, though, the anger was too strong and managed to worm its way in, making her slightly dizzy as she flew through the air. It didn’t help that more memories threatened to resurface as well, filling her with a vaguely familiar hazy feeling. However, whatever that feeling was, was slammed back as a torrent of hostile emotions invaded the empathy link.

Gasping, Blossom found herself tripping into her sister's back. The raven-haired woman had stopped in the middle of a hallway, shoulders heaving as the pink puff grabbed her shirt. From the sharp spike in dark emotions, the redhead could only guess that her sister had found her target.

Taking a breath to calm and control herself, she stepped around Buttercup to see four Resistance officers standing in front of them, Brick being one. His red eyes were trained on her sister and they darkened as she stepped into his line of sight. On the other hand, Butch, who was standing next to him, just grinned even more, his dark green eyes glittering. There was a pregnant silence as neither group moved nor spoke. The two other officers, Princess and an older man that Blossom did not know, merely glanced between the four counterparts.

Eyes not leaving Blossom, Brick asked her sister, “What is it you need, Buttercup?”

“You to stop being a fucking ass,” she snapped in response causing Blossom to look at her sharply. “What the fuck, Brick? So Blossom can’t even let off some _steam_?”

“Tried the training simulator, I see,” he said, turning his gaze back to the handheld computer he was holding. “I told you already. She’s considered a threat.” His eyes flashed to the pink-eyed woman, whose full lips had turned down in a frown at that. “Therefore, until further notice, the training simulator is off limits to her.”

Buttercup gritted her teeth, her anger flaring anew as she took in the red ruff’s emotionless face. Her clenched fists ignited in green energy and Butch instantly threw up a translucent green shield between her and his brother.

Despite the clear hostility in her face, Brick remained completely unruffled and sighed, gesturing for his brother to drop the shield. For a few moments, the green-eyed man didn’t respond before letting the green shield disappear with a clear look of discontent. His muscles were still tense and the glowing green energy hadn’t disappeared from Buttercup's fists either.

“You’re doing this to be an ass, aren’t you?” The green puff gesticulated angrily with her glowing hands, not giving notice to the way they sparked as she sliced the air. Nor did she notice the small air currents gathering around her and Blossom’s ankles. “It’s unfair!”

“You may find my choice unfair, but I’m only doing this to protect the people here,” Brick explained and Blossom found herself heavily tempted to delve into his thoughts, personal morals and ethics be damned. “Therefore, until we know more or feel like we can trust her, Pinky is little more than a civilian.”

“You mean prisoner,” Buttercup hissed in response. “God! Who the hell died and made you the king of _anything_?”

There was the slightest of twitches from Brick and, as she was looking at his face, Blossom noticed that his mouth seemed a little tighter than it had a moment before. Frowning herself, the pink puff had the decency to elbow her sister for that comment, despite the fact she agreed.

However, something about the way her counterpart’s eyes had darkened made a small ball of sympathy form in her stomach. Something must have happened for him to become leader so young and she doubted, for all his planning, he had been prepared for it. He was just doing his best to retain a semblance of normalcy and order in a time thrown into mayhem. She bit her lip, a nervous tick that she had apparently _not_ grown out of, and tried her hardest not to read his thoughts.

“Buttercup,” Blossom warned softly as her sister glared at Brick.

“Seriously! What the hell is with the fucking holier-than-thou attitude!? I mean, really! You’re the fucking same as me or Butch! Hell, you’re the goddamn _counterpart of Blossom_!” she snarled, continuing her angry gesticulations as she talked. She didn’t care if that made little sense; she was just angry that Blossom was being treated like this. “And what’s with all this ‘I have to protect’ and ‘my choice’ crap!? Is this a dictatorship here? I mean, I know power can make people cuckoo, but honestly?”

No emotion showed on Brick’s face, but the way his eyes seemed to only become darker set alarms off in Blossom’s head. She may have been gone for eight years and she may have not seen Brick in ten, but she could still tell when her counterpart was becoming beyond angry.

Snapping her gaze to her equally angry sister, she tried shushing her, only to have Buttercup to ignore her.

“Bu—” Blossom tried again, but her sister was well into her rant and the pink puff knew how Buttercup could get. It made Mojo look brief in comparison.

“ _Not now, Bloss,_ ” Buttercup growled, eyes glowing brightly. “I’m letting this bastard know how much of a dick he is! Just because you’ve been gone for so long, doesn’t mean you’ve gone off the deep end and became the aliens’ bitch!” Blossom looked offended at this comment as Butch raised an eyebrow and Princess coughed, covering her snort. The green puff’s eyes never left Brick’s face as she continued, “And y’know what? I still can’t believe they made you fucking general! How the hell did that happen? You kill the old one and claim an alien did it, Bricky boy?”

Instead of darkening to black, those red eyes suddenly became a bright scarlet, which was even more alarming than they darkening were.

However, Blossom wasn’t paying attention to Brick anymore; her eyes were now trained on Buttercup.

The look of pure glee and unadulterated sadism on her sister’s face was just wrong. This was not how someone like Buttercup was supposed to act. She didn’t care how long she was gone or what had changed; Blossom did not want to see her sister acting like a sadistic witch.

“Hey…” Butch said, frowning at her. “Buttercup, seriously. Sto—"

Buttercup completely ignored her counterpart and continued her tirade. “Really, Brick. Tell me. How di—?” 

“Enough.”

Brick’s voice hadn’t uttered the word. It wasn’t Butch and it wasn’t Princess. And it certainly wasn’t the officer virtually hiding behind Princess, either.

As the realization who spoke set in, five sets of eyes turned to Blossom. The pink-eyed woman’s face was set in an expression that made Buttercup stiffen. That expression, with those pink eyes dark in anger and disappointment and those full lips set in a frown, was so much like the one that would adorn her face when Buttercup would disobey a direct order from long, long ago. The memories of all the times that she had done just that surged in her mind, a collection of disobedience and disappointment, of recklessness and righteous anger. She hadn’t seen an expression in a long time.

If she had to be honest, Blossom would confess that she liked the way everyone had fallen silent at the tone of her voice. It gave her the familiar feeling of control that felt oh so nice and also made her realize just how antsy she was to train her strategies and work on the ones that were floating amongst those bleary images. Of course, as she couldn’t use the simulator, there was really no way for her to work on them besides writing them down, which put a sour taste in her mouth. If she had learned anything from living with Buttercup, it was that sometimes doing something was better than just sitting there and thinking about doing it.

“I understand where… _Brick_ …is coming from with his caution,” she said, eyes locked on Buttercup. “I may not like it and you…well, you certainly don’t like it, but as the leader of the Resistance, it is his opinion that matters.”

“…I can’t believe you said that with a straight face,” Buttercup said, eyes wide. “Did…you just… _acknowledge_ that _Brick_ has more power than you do?”

Blossom frowned at her sister, a look of annoyance plain on her face.

“It’s clear in this situation. I am the pariah here and he is the honored general," she admitted with as little distaste in her voice as she could manage. Glancing at her counterpart, her lips twitched into the semblance of a half-smile before the frown took over. “You’re welcome.”

“What?” Buttercup asked in confusion.

“It’s nothing,” Blossom responded. Crossing her arms, she gave Brick her full attention. “Would I be correct in saying that I am not allowed to join the Resistance army?”

“As much as I hate saying you’re correct, you would be,” Brick answered. He glanced down at the tablet in his hands. “Now, excuse me. I have matters to attend that do not involve bitchy hissy fits from pissed off rebels.”

He inclined his head to the stunned Buttercup and annoyed Blossom before gesturing for Princess and the other officer to follow him. The sisters watched them walk away in silence.

As soon as the trio turned a corner, Buttercup let out an aggravated screech, thoroughly scaring a few pedestrians. Cursing colorfully, she made throttling motions in the air in front of her as Blossom watched impassively. The red-haired puff crossed her arms, frowning at her sister.

“You need to control your temper, Buttercup,” she scolded lightly, looking at her with worried eyes.

“‘You need to control your temper, Buttercup’,” her sister mimicked in a bad imitation of her voice. This received a narrowed glare and she threw her arms up. “I know, I know! I have a bad temper! It hasn’t changed!”

“Well, anger management courses are a little…sparse when you’re living in a post-apocalyptic world,” Butch chimed in, startling both women. He smirked, eyes glittering when they turned to him. “Forget about me?”

“…I thought you left with…” Buttercup pointing down the way Brick had gone and her counterpart just continued to smirk.

“There were only three people going down that way,” he pointed out. His smirk dropped at he looked between the two sisters. “So he really put Blossom on the black list for the simulator?”

Grimacing, the green sister nodded, crossing her arms. “Ugh. Honestly. What the hell is with Brick?”

The Resistance sergeant mimicked her posture, eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s stressed. He’s the leader of the whole fucking Resistance, Butters,” Butch said, frowning. “He doesn’t have a partner to co-lead with like you did.”

She glared at him for that and looked ready to make a retort when Blossom silenced her with one look. The raven-haired rebel took to grumbling under her breath and shooting glares at both her sister and counterpart. Despite her sour attitude, the pink puff knew that Buttercup recognized that Brick indeed have a lot on his shoulders.

Blossom herself understood the responsibility with which the red ruff was shouldered. While being the leader of a trio of superpowered girls wasn’t the same as being the leader of an entire Resistance organization branching out all over the world, the same basis of responsibility was there. Brick had to act accordingly and be a paragon of trust and fairness…just like Blossom once had to be.

Ignoring the sudden throbbing in her chest, the red-haired woman turned her attention to Butch.

“You’re very protective of your brother,” she noted and the green-eyed man blinked at her in surprise.

“Exactly. He’s my brother.” He shrugged before giving the two puffs a half-smile. “I take it Bubs is being cold?”

“The Antarctic is warmer than that bitch,” Buttercup snapped, now scowling at the wall. It was clear that she was still angry about the cold shoulder her little sister was giving her and Blossom.

“Buttercup!” said older sister chastised as Butch raised an eyebrow. “She’s our sister!”

The green puff snorted in response. “Ha! She hasn’t been acting like it.”

Blossom frowned. She reached out to touch her sister’s shoulder, but she twisted away from her.

Hurt, the redhead sighed shakily before murmuring, “It’s only been a day…and we both did abandon her.”

Both green-eyed superhumans snapped their attention to Blossom at that.

Buttercup mouthed helplessly, looking somewhere between shocked and angry. She hadn’t expected Blossom to feel as if she had abandoned Bubbles. Blossom had been taken by aliens! She didn't have a choice of leaving them behind! It wasn't like the aliens had _asked_ her if she wanted to be swept up by them and do...whatever they had her do. Why should she feel that way?

Buttercup clenched and unclenched her fists, floundering for an answer to that. Nothing came to her mind and she swallowed thickly. Years may have passed, but she still wasn't that good with words when it came to situations like this.

“I…I didn’t…I mean…” She bit her lip, before trying again. “…you didn’t abandon her…I did. I was the one who didn’t join the Resistance.”

The redhead looked at her, analyzing her face and the emotions coming from her before she sighed softly.

“I suppose you’re right…but I still feel like I have sometimes…” she murmured and Buttercup made a weird noise in her throat, something between a whimper and snarl.

An awkward moment passed between the three. Blossom and Buttercup merely stared at each other as Butch looked between the two, unsure as to what to do. He wasn’t good with situations like this. He couldn’t comfort someone; that was beyond his pay grade. (Not that he had a pay grade, but it sounded nice.) Looking away uneasily, the green ruff bit the inside of his cheek in thought before sighing. God, he hated atmospheres like this.

“Well! This is getting too heavy for me!” he suddenly declared, clapping his hands. “So I’m going to—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Buttercup said, grabbing his arm. “I’m enlisting for the Resistance.”

Looking shocked, Butch stared at her unabashedly. Even Blossom looked surprised.

Both said, “You are?”

“How the hell else am I going to be able to kick Narcassian ass?” she snapped, before turning to her sister. “See? I remembered what those jackasses are called!”

Lips quirking, the redhead chuckled lightly. She looked like she wanted to remark on that, but instead she said, “I didn’t say a thing.”

“Ah, but you were thinking it!” Buttercup responded, before bringing her attention back to Butch. “Okay. Yeah. The aliens are called Narcassians. Yes, Blossom knows that. She was held prisoner by them, remember. And you are going to help me enlist.” Hooking her arm around Butch’s, she started dragging the sergeant down the hall, despite having no idea as to where she was supposed to go. “Now let’s go.”

“Jesus. Pushy, aren’tcha?” Butch grumbled. Before his counterpart could take him too far, he tossed something to Blossom. She looked at the little pad in her hand before giving him a confused look. “Those are some pass codes for those public places!” The pink puff looked alarmed as Buttercup practically pulled his arm out of the socket. “FUCK OW! Christ, woman!”

“Come _on_ , jerkwad!” the raven-haired woman snarled, receiving another yelp of pain.

Blossom watched them go with a look of concern on her face.

* * *

That night, after a long day of suspicious and awed looks, Blossom sat on her bed, playing with a pencil and staring blankly at the three objects on her comforter. The objects consisted of her list of pass codes, an open sketchbook, and the communicator she had received that day. The communicator was really like a cell phone, a flat device with a simple black and white screen. The Professor had proudly given it to her when she had visited him in his lab; his name had been first on the list of contacts she found, a little star next to indicating that he was on her "Favorites" list.

Sighing, she dropped her pencil and picked up the list of codes. She flipped through them, reading the numbers there and beginning to memorize them. There were maybe twenty codes there, maybe a little more, and each was a specific number combination that varied in length depending on what it was used for. Such as the one for the cafeteria, it was simply three-six-six-three.

The first thing she had decided to use her handy list of pass codes for was to enter the cafeteria and grab something to eat. Brunch had been a quiet and awkward experience as everyone had stared baldly at her, though it became less awkward when Jocey had bounced over and joined her. The second thing she had used the list for was to enter the Professor’s lab. He had had stopped her on her way to the cafeteria, telling her to drop by whenever. She had done just that, but aside from getting the communicator, she had not been able to talk to her father because of his fussing over the state of Emmons.

A dull throb filled her chest at the memory of Emmons. She hadn’t seen him, but there were muffled screams coming from one of the rooms off the main lab. Her guilt flared anew.

Dropping the list of codes, she wrapped her arms around herself. She still felt as if it was her fault that Emmons had been turned into that thing. The memory of delving into his mind surfaced and she shuddered.

_“And you…will find Blo…ssom…and…ki…ll…”_

The Narcassian had told him to find _her_. It had used him to get to _her_. Maybe Brick was right. Maybe she was a threat…but not for the reason he thought. Shifting so that she was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, she rested her chin on them and stared down her list without seeing it. Brick thought she was a threat because he believed that _she_ would be the one to attack people. He didn’t realize that she was a threat because _the aliens_ would use people to get to _her_.

Pressing her face against her knees, she groaned, grumbling lowly, “Now I want to train.”

As she sat there grumbling to herself, a thought struck her and she sat up with wide eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she slapped her forehead. How could she not have realized it?

Jumping off her bed, she pulled on a pair of pants and traded her baggy sweater for a regular long-sleeved shirt. Quickly slipping into a pair of flats, she crept to her door. Opening it a bit, she peered out into the main living area. The living room was dark and she crept towards the door, her glowing eyes casting pale pink light. With a quick glance around, she slipped through.

It took her a few minutes to find her way after leaving the living quarters, but about fifteen minutes later, Blossom found herself in front of the door to the training room. She smiled to herself. Brick said she couldn’t use the training simulator, but what if there was no one there to stop her? After all, it was well after hours now and there was really no reason to have a 24/7 watch on the simulator. That would just be a waste of manpower.

Pulling out her pad of codes, she flipped to the second page and quickly found the code next to “Training Room”. She quickly typed it in (two-eight-eight-two-four) and the door slid open with that familiar pneumatic hiss. Walking into the room, she glanced about, despite knowing that no one would be there at such an hour. It had to be at least midnight, after all.

Shaking her head, she floated over to the training simulator controls. She took a breath to steel herself and quickly pressed the blatantly labeled “on” button. The monitor in front of her beeped and a blue monochrome screen came on asking for a code.

Frowning, not expecting this, Blossom looked through her codes, but couldn’t find one that said it was for the training simulator. After a moment or two of staring blankly at the screen, she tried the code for the training room.

_Access Denied._

_“Okay…let’s try…”_ Blossom typed in the code to the Professor’s lab, but came up with the same screen.

Frowning, she tried a few more codes and even tried just a bunch of random numbers, but each try came up empty. Now more than a little confused, she crossed her arms and stared down at the screen. She hadn’t expected that a password was needed to get into the simulator.

If she weren’t so wound up with energy, she would have just given up and let Brick have his way. However, seeing as she was in need of a good training session and she recognized her own stubbornness, the pink puff found herself glaring at the machine, hoping to cow it into letting her in.

“Well…this is unexpected.”

Eyes widening and letting out a surprised squeal, Blossom literally jumped a foot into the air and hovered there. She turned and found Butch standing ten feet behind her.

“H-How did you get in here?” she asked, placing a hand over her heart. She hadn’t heard the door hiss open and she reluctantly landed as a Butch raised an eyebrow.

“Scare ya, did I?” he said, smirking. “I used the door in the pool room. It was closer to where I was.”

“O-Oh…” She nodded, wringing her hands nervously.

The green ruff watched her, taking in her expression, and his smirk grew as he realized why she was in the room. “You tried to sneak into the training simulator.”

It wasn’t a question and her cheeks heated up in response to the statement. It was true, but she didn't have to let him know.

Stuttering, she said, “N-No!”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, grinning widely.

Blossom gulped and shifted uncomfortably.

“I…um, sleepwalked here?” she tried and the painfully incredulous look she received made her wince.

“Bullshit,” Butch responded, crossing his arms. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow. I never realized how bad at lying you were.”

She frowned and pouted, mimicking his stance. “Okay, so I tried to sneak into the simulator. It’s not like I can do it during the day.”

“Mmm. I know how that is,” he murmured, walking over to her. He bent slightly and typed something into the simulator controls. It beeped and a screen denoting _Access Granted_ appeared. Winking at the stunned puff, he jovially said, “Wanna train with me?”

She gaped at him for a moment before regaining her composure. “Sure, but how did you…?”

She let herself trail off as Butch strode over to the door, stripping off his jacket. She followed him, still looking confused and grudgingly impressed. How had the raven-haired man managed to open the simulator? He had typed in a code, that was obvious, but what code had he used?

Stopping in the middle of the room, Butch faced her. She found herself blushing as his green eyes looked over her and she squirmed a bit. His thoughts were thankfully not as bad as Ace’s had been, but they were still steamy enough to make her uncomfortable.

Coughing into her fist, she gave him a pointed look and he only grinned in response. They were silent for a moment or two before he stretched his arms over his head. She found herself staring at his torso and the little bit of stomach that had been exposed from his stretching. Really, it was ridiculous how good these Rowdyruffs looked. She and her sisters had been the perfect little girls. They had just been…well, they had just been weapons, hadn't they?

Shaking her head, she bit her lip and averted her gaze. What nonsensical thoughts to be having _now_ of all times!

“Shall we begin?” he asked and she whipped towards him as he called out, “Computer, arena four-dash-thirty-two, Townsville, mid-morning. Start!”

Immediately the white tiled room disappeared and the two were standing on Main Street, Townsville. Despite herself, Blossom found herself looking around, feeling tears bead in her eyes. It had been so long since she last seen Townsville in its glory and not the gray shell it was now, with the black nest growing in its center. She could almost imagine the hustle and bustle of the city, even with the lack any simulated pedestrians or cars. She had flown through these streets too many times to not perfectly recreate each friendly citizen, each bright smile and wave.

She was so focused on taking in her surroundings that she completely forgot that Butch was standing only four feet from her. It wasn’t that she was unaware of him; she still could sense he was there, but her mind wasn’t focused on the here and now. It was miles away in the past, back in a time that was so much simpler. Back in a time where she had been a hero.

There was movement in her peripheral and she twisted, just narrowly dodging Butch. She whirled towards him but found nothing there. Eyes widening, the pink-eyed woman glanced around before glancing left and holding up her arms to block his swift kick. The force of his attack sent her back multiple feet, her shoes skidding across the virtual asphalt.

Lowering her arms, she ducked. She swung her fist up and successfully delivered a sharp uppercut to his chin. The ruff flipped once in the air and rubbed the wounded body part, grinning widely.

She glared up at him, frowning. Her stance shifted to battle ready, feet spread and fists raised.

“Hey! What’s the big idea?” she snapped. “And you still haven’t answered my question!”

Butch didn’t answer, however; he just dived at her, slamming his fist into the street where she had been standing a moment earlier. Straightening, the young man idly brushed dust off his hands and gave the pink puff a wide grin.

This action caused a dull throb to begin in her head as a memory fought its way to the surface of her mind. Wincing, she took an involuntary step back, fighting back the memory and simultaneously watching him warily.

“Less talk, more fighting,” he finally said and lunged forward.

Blossom tensed and though she kept her eyes on him, a moment later she lost sight of the green ruff.

Startled, she furtively looked about, but found no sign of her training partner. Feeling panic set in, she had little time to react to the barrage of punches delivered to her torso. With a gasp, her body flew into one of the buildings, effectively destroying the exterior wall. The debris covered her entirely, leaving her under a pile of rubble.

Butch flew over to the hole, looking idly inside and using his x-ray vision to see through the debris. He found no trace of the redhead, however, and, before he could feel worried, he found himself propelled backwards. The force slammed him into the building across the street, leaving a Butch-shaped crater in the wall. He shook his head and found the pink puff standing mere feet away.

The look she gave him was almost frighteningly similar to a look Brick often had whenever he could convince him to train with him. An excited shiver shot up and down his spine. This should be _fun_.

As Butch pondered the similarities, she held up a fist that glowed. She released a barrage of pink blasts at him and he threw up a shield, cutting them off. From the frustrated look on Blossom’s face, she must have forgotten that he could do that. Smirking, enjoying the fight more than he probably should, the green-eyed man let loose a few fist-beams himself before flying towards the woman.

Her eyes narrowed and she tensed her muscles before she soared into the air. She surveyed Butch a moment before shooting off. From a short burst of colorful thoughts, the pink puff knew he was following her. A small smirk formed on her face as she swerved among the buildings. Her favorite thing to do when fighting the ruffs was Cat and Mouse. Though admittedly only Brick shared her love for it (as they did fight that way most of the time), Blossom found herself hoping that Butch would play along with it. As soon as she thought this, she felt something slam into her with enough force to throw her through a window, only just noticing a warm body on her own as she hit the ground.

They landed heavily in an office, if that was what it was, as both were too focused on the other. Twisting under him, the pink puff threw her elbow into his clavicle and then eyebeamed his chest. His breath left him in a horrendous cough, but he still had her pinned.

He winced, but grinned salaciously causing her to blush. Scowling, she managed to grip his collar, jamming her foot into his chest, and threw him off her. He slammed into a wall, causing most, if not all, of the artwork and assorted awards to fall. Blossom stood, panting deeply, and leered at the man grinning at her.

Her body thrummed with energy, thrummed with excitement. It had been a while since she fought like this, fought with fists and energy and superpowers. At least, as far as her foggy memories could tell her, this had been the first time in a while. The wispy remains of a memory, of the image of Butch dusting off his hands returned, and she scowled.

Fists igniting, she zoomed towards him and slammed her fist into his force field. Teeth gritted, she narrowed her glowing eyes at him.

“Someone’s getting angry~,” Butch sang, manipulating his shield to wrap around Blossom.

Noticing the sudden curvature of his shield, the young woman jumped back, her scowl still blazing. He just continued to smirk, dropping the shield and lunging towards her. Aiming a punch at her face, the redhead dodged it and retaliated with a swift kick to his side.

Butch hissed in pain, biting out an angry “FUCK”. He jumped backwards, sending multiple fist-beams at her. She twisted in a way that reminded the Resistance sergeant of a dancer and she was suddenly in his face, delivering a sharp roundhouse kick to his temple. The force of her kick was enough to send him flying through the wall and into the next room.

He tumbled across the floor before managing to regain his balance. He skidded on his toes and one hand, gathering dark green energy in the other one. He threw the energy ball when Blossom appeared in the hole, hitting her in the stomach. Her breath left her in a gasp and she herself was thrown back. The green-eyed man had to bite back a sadistic chuckle and shot into the other room. He found Blossom lying in the remains of a desk, her eyes tightly closed.

For a moment, he felt some worry that he had used too much force, but he was too fired up to let that thought gain any traction. His skin sparked with his power and a faint tremor shook his hands. It felt good to go all out. Being recalled from the field _sucked_ and Brick and Boomer were way too busy to give him the time of day. Simulations could only go so far before he got bored. There was just something about fighting a live person, fighting another _superhuman_ that was just so, so rewarding. If he had his druthers, he would love to spar with Buttercup, but Blossom was proving to be a _delightful_ substitute.

As he neared the young woman, he noticed the room temperature severely drop. Before he could react, Blossom breathed out a gust of frozen air, freezing him from the waist down.

Without skipping a beat, the pink puff was on her feet and delivering another roundhouse to Butch’s stomach. The ice around his legs shattered as the force of the kick sent him flying across the room. He slammed through a desk, wincing as the wood splintered around him. Before he could push himself up, there was a sudden weight on his body and a glowing pink object was shoved in his face.

“Give up?” Blossom growled and Butch blinked, moving his head to see her face. Despite the dark look on her face, he had to admit that the way her nose scrunched up in anger was rather cute.

“Give up? Ha!” In the next moment, he had her pinned underneath him. “Really. You should know me better, Blossy~.”

She eyebeamed him, but he was already off her, dancing backwards. He grinned cockily at her and then he was gone.

Blossom cursed softly, eyes darting around, trying to catch sight of him or any semblance of thought. The most she was getting were flickering images and some nasty thoughts that made her simultaneously uncomfortable and furious. She didn’t want to stay where she was in the office, despite the protection it served. The precise moment she blasted out of the building was the same moment Butch slammed a fist into the ground where she had once being standing.

Gasping, eyes wide, the pink puff managed a smirk as the ruff narrowed his eyes at her. She waved cheekily and twirled in the air, dodging an eyebeam. She dropped several stories before flying close to the street, breathing out softly and creating a trail of ice for Butch to follow. Turning sharply around a corner, dodging another beam, Blossom let out a much larger breath of ice. Her fingers danced through the air and, when Butch came rocketing around the street corner, he slammed straight into a thick wall of ice.

Colorful curses filled the air and her mind and she laughed lightly. She almost couldn't believe he fell for that, but he had been going pretty fast, she presumed. Ice twined around her and she melted into her wall.

Butch began melting the ice with his eyebeams, but the pink puff blindsided him by literally blooming from the ice wall and kicking him sharply in the side. He went flying, but managed a fist beam that slammed into her gut. The two superhumans crashed into opposite buildings, debris falling from their matching craters.

The first to recover was Butch, who again rocketed at her. Expecting a punch, Blossom let herself fall again, but released a surprised gasp when she felt another body adding weight to her descent. Twisting, she tried to grab Butch by the face, but only succeeded in spinning them. Neither corrected themselves and both slammed into the ground with enough force to make yet another crater, the green ruff cushioning Blossom.

Hissing, she squirmed out of his grip and used his thighs to propel herself out of the crater. As she landed, body tensing for another go around, Butch held up his hands in a calming manner as he sat up. Frowning, she reluctantly relaxed, though she still eyed him suspiciously and watched him as he stood.

“So you concede defeat?” she asked and he raised an eyebrow.

“Well… _no_ ,” he began, grinning at her narrowed glare. “ _But_ we’ve been fighting for well over an hour now. And as much as I love fighting, I technically can’t shirk my duties as an officer.”

Blossom looked surprised at this. “Really? But…no, that can’t be r—"

He held out his communicator to her, its screen denoting the time as 1:44 AM. It didn’t feel like they had been fighting for almost two hours. If anything, it felt as if they had been fighting for only a few minutes.

Mouth moving up and down uselessly, she noticed that she was indeed panting heavily and her bangs were sticking to her forehead. She pushed said hair off her face and took notice that Butch himself was sweaty, though not as much as she was.

Pocketing the handheld device, he then gripped the edge of his shirt and brought it to his face to use as a rag. There was a faint shaking to his hands, but she couldn't tell what that was from. She was a little distracted ogling his toned stomach despite herself.

The blush couldn't be fought.

Releasing his shirt, the sergeant said, “Computer, simulation fifty-three dash oh-seven. My island, real time.”

The pink puff looked confused until the scenery changed. Instead of the wrecked street, they were now standing on a sandy beach at night. The moon hung above them like a grin, whispering of secrets that it knew and no one else did. Dark blue waves lapped at the pearly sand and a cool breeze tickled her neck.

Blossom found herself looking around at the island with large eyes. There were palm trees just behind her and a small hut nestled in a little grove of said trees. Leafy bushes of some kind served as shrubbery around the half-door and the soft call of some kind of nocturnal bird cooed from the trees.

“W-What _is_ this?” she asked, turning to Butch. She made a strangled noise in her throat as she realized that said ruff was shirtless.

He was oblivious to her staring as he answered, “My island. It’s just a replication of some island I saw in a movie, but, hey, what're you gonna do? I can't exactly go flying willy-nilly to the Pacific, so I have the computer make this whenever I need time to think.”

Tearing her eyes from his naked chest, she looked around and murmured, “It’s beautiful.” She let her eyes rest on the glistening waves for a moment before turning back to Butch. She frowned at him. “Now, I have some questions for you.”

Shrugging, he walked past her towards one of the palm trees. He roughly elbowed it and he caught the two coconuts that fell.

Sliding to the ground, he tossed her one and said, “Shoot.”

Catching the fruit, she continued to frown at him before sighing and joining him at the base of the tree. She leaned against the trunk and delivered a sharp chop to the coconut, cleanly splitting it in two. Peeling the two halves apart, she stared idly at the clear liquid in one before speaking.

“How did you get into the simulator?” she asked, deciding to cure that curiosity first.

Butch rolled the coconut in his hands before answering. “The simulator locks after nine at night. You need a code to enter it after that time. Most of the commanding officers have one.”

Blossom hummed in response before nodding. That was logical, though it also had the sound of a curfew for the subordinates of those commanding officers. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. In a roundabout way, a curfew did assert order and they needed that, but the Resistance base was also underground and the tunnel leading to it was long. It wasn't like there was the chance of an alien getting in without them knowing.

They sat in silence after that, neither making a move to speak. The puff let out a soft sigh, unsure what else she could ask. It felt rude to ask him why he and his brothers had joined, because this was their world too. Why wouldn't they try to help it? Even if they had spent a good part of their childhood helping a megalomaniac monkey try to take over their city. Then there was the question of Mojo himself, but she really doubted that Butch would know. Mojo had always seemed to like Brick best of the Rowdyruffs, even if she had witnessed plenty of arguments between the two.

Her head hurt a little, but she wasn't sure if it was from memories or from Butch tossing her around. Her muscles sang with a pleasant soreness that felt _right._ This fight had been exactly what she needed, even if fighting had brought on more murky memories. Certainly, there were things that jumped out at her from the murk, but most were still unclear. The strongest being the memory that Butch dusting his hands off had caused.

She rubbed her forehead as the memory suddenly rushed out, as if her just acknowledging it was enough for it to come forward. It assaulted her mind, almost overpowering her with its contents. She could see everything, hear it, could practically feel it.

Her coconut fell from her grasp as she curled up, hands gripping her head. Butch was at her side, asking her if she was all right, but the memory had already taken over her senses.

_She panted, trembling as she forced herself to stand. How long had she been at it? How long had this fight gone on? She was so tired, but she didn’t want them to see her as weak. She wasn’t weak. She would prove to them that she wasn't, that…whatever made her feel foggy and muddled wasn't enough to curb her power._

_Lifting her clenched fists, she prepared herself for the next attack. There was an aggravated huff and someone was kneeing her stomach at a tremendous speed, sending her flying into the gilded wall. Gasping, she peeled herself from the crater, only to fall to her hands and knees. Her breaths were ragged now, her eyes impossibly wide._

_“Are you really this weak?” a cold voice asked and she lifted her head to see a creature decked out in an intricate set of gold bracers and arm bands staring down at her. “Pathetic. I can only hope those_ punks _of Hardly’s are better than you.”_

_“…’m…not…we-weak,” she growled, pink eyes flashing._

_The alien grabbed her by her scalp and lifted her, causing her cry out in pain._

_“Really now?” the alien sneered, dropping her and dusting off her hands. “And_ this _is what the Earth had protecting it? No wonder we took it over so easily.”_

“Blossom!” Butch’s voice cut through her memory at the same time the sharp slap to her cheek registered.

Hissing out an angry “ow”, Blossom punched the ruff automatically and clutched her cheek. She glared at him, rubbing the sore area.

“Did you really have to hit me?” she snapped, the memory still buzzing around her head.

“How the hell else was I supposed to snap you out of your fucking trance?” he responded, also holding his cheek. “You certainly weren’t answering when I called your damn name.”

Making an undignified noise, she turned away from him and glared out at the sea. A part of her knew she was acting childish, getting annoyed at him for hitting her, but another part also knew that there were other ways to snap her out of it. And then, there was a whole other part that felt touched about the fact he was even worried enough to try to snap her out of it.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she stared at the dark sky, dusted with virtual diamond-like stars. She sighed softly, hugging herself tighter. She was confused as to why Butch would do that for her. He was Brick’s right hand man, wasn’t he? He certainly acted like his brother’s bodyguard at least. However, if he was…then why was he acting like this?

“Butch,” Blossom said and then continued, not waiting for a reply, “why are you doing this?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand her. She was surprised by that show of maturity, but was even more surprised by his response. His voice was low as he said, “Because you deserve the benefit of a doubt.”

Eyes widening in surprise, she turned to him. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring up at the sky. Had he really said that? Her eyes glistened with tears and she swallowed thickly, averting her gaze. Of all the people to say that, Butch was one of the ones she had least expected.

Shifting closer to him, she gently bumped her shoulder against his.

“Why would you say that?” she asked and Butch snorted.

“You make it sound like I said something bad,” he remarked, glancing at her before letting out a breath. “God. I fucking _hate_ this sensitivity shit. Okay. Basically, when me and my brothers first came back to Townsville, no one pretty much trusted us. Like, even though we had helped out your sisters, they still didn't trust us. Expect your dad and Mrs. Cavadini. For some reason, they trusted us despite the fact we were known villains. So, if anyone deserves to be trusted, it should be you.” He turned fully to her then, his dark green eyes delving into hers. “Even if you were held by the aliens.”

Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze, but Blossom found herself blushing helplessly as she took in what he had just said. She knew he was being sincere, as she had unwittingly entered his mind when he had explained his reasoning. The memories that had filled his mind were enough proof for her to believe him. Memories of the Rowdyruffs Boys standing before sneering adults, before trembling children, before a grim-faced crowd. Memories of a gentle smile in an elderly face, of a familiar hand held out to them and a tired, fatherly face looking down at them with a warmth they had never known.

Her heart hurt from those memories, memories she shouldn't be seeing and couldn't help but see. She dropped her gaze from his and tightened her hold on herself. A bubbly feeling began in her chest, a similar feeling to the one she had had from Buttercup three weeks ago. For whatever reason, she liked the fact that he did maybe trust her. Sure, it bothered her that he did, considering who he was, but at the same time, it comforted her that someone besides her close friends and family trusted her.

It...made things bearable.

“…thank you,” she murmured. He gave her a lopsided grin in response.

For a few more moments, they sat in silence, but unlike before, it was rather comfortable.

Blossom sat close to Butch, not leaning on him, but resting close enough that there was a slight pressure on his shoulder. It was actually nice, sitting there with him, and she could almost laugh at that. If you would have told her eight years ago that she would be sitting on a virtual beach with the rowdiest of the Rowdyruff Boys, she would have laughed in your face. Nevertheless, here she was sitting close to a man she had once considered the most psychotic of her and her sisters’ foes.

It was pleasant sitting there under the stars. The soft sound of the waves mixed together with the whispering of the palm fronds and simulated birdcalls were making Blossom sleepy. This natural lullaby combined with the energy she had expended in her fight with Butch was proving too much for her. Yawning, she leaned more heavily on said ruff’s shoulder and blinked blearily.

He shifted and chuckled lightly, nudging her.

“C’mon, Red,” he said, grinning widely as she just grumbled at that. He stood, his shirt thrown over his shoulder, and held out a hand to her. She looked surprised that he did so, but took it anyway, pulling herself up. Once she was on her feet, Butch said, “Computer, end simulation.”

In the next instant, the island was gone and they were back in the rectangular white tiled room.

Already, Blossom missed the simulated paradise. It had been so much nicer than the sterile white walls around them and the ones that waited for them outside of it. She almost didn't want to leave, not knowing when she would next be able to use the simulator. At least she had been able to use it. She hadn't really been able to work on strategies, but she did enjoy it.

However, as they left the room, she found herself still antsy. Tired though she was, she could feel energy already starting to bubble under her skin. It wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier, but it was still there and that made her frown.

Butch must have noticed her frown because he turned to her, a knowing look in his eye. She frowned at him, eyes narrowing at him as he chuckled.

“Tomorrow night. Same time, same place?” he asked, winking at her.

She stared at him for a moment, torn between being unimpressed and amused. Then what he said registered and her mouth formed an O shape.

He just stood there, watching her gain her thoughts, and then, just as he opened his mouth to remark, she beamed at him. Whatever Butch was going to say, he choked on and just stared at her as Blossom gave him her answer.

“Yes!”

#


	9. Chapter 8: Secret Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this, AO3 is now officially caught up to where I left off over on Fanfic! Starting next week, all new content will be hitting the 'net so look forward to that!
> 
> Also, I hope everyone is safe and looking out for themselves and each other! Right now is a really scary time, so please take care if you have to go out at all! And if you're stuck at home, please take care of yourself: eat properly (you can't survive on junk food), don't stay on the computer all day (as tempting as it is), and make sure to exercise, even if it's just cleaning! 
> 
> Well, that's enough of me worrying, please enjoy!

One of the few things that Blossom was allowed to do at the Resistance was use the library as much as she wanted. Said room was huge, as big as the cafeteria at least, though she was certain that it could possibly be larger. There were three floors, the third and second of which were both open to the ground floor at one end. She spent most of her days there, reading book after book. After all, there wasn't much else to do when she was banned from just about everything, but she did relish that she could rectify her lack of schooling. Whatever information and knowledge her fuzzy memories told her she had was useless when she couldn't even remember it.

When she wasn't reading, or at least taking a break to rest her eyes, she would sometimes watch the small class of children that Ms. Keane taught on the ground floor. There weren’t many, barely twenty, as the Townsville branch wasn’t an ideal place to raise children. Most families with young children moved to areas with less alien activity, or so she had heard. Honestly, Blossom couldn’t blame them for moving. Being so close to the heart of the Narcassian empire was less-than-ideal for a growing family.

The pink puff currently sat curled up on a ridiculously uncomfortable couch on the second floor, staring at the pages of Sun Tzu’s _The Art of War_ without truly seeing them. It wasn’t that it was boring to her; in fact, she found it very interesting and highly educational. However, every time she tried to focus, her mind always went back to what had happened over the past month. She still couldn’t believe at times that it had been a month since she first came to the Resistance.

Many things had happened over the course of those four weeks. 

The first and foremost experience of hers from those weeks was the secret training sessions she had with Butch. It was almost ridiculous how exhilarated she felt whenever she thought back to them. She had never realized how satisfying it felt to fight without the use of plans and just on instinct. She had told herself that she wanted to work on, and out, the piles of strategies in her mind, but the moment she stepped into the simulator with the green ruff, everything she planned went out the window. His fighting style was almost entirely instinct and that counteracted Blossom’s telepathy. Clear, decisive thoughts were easy to read, but the quick flashes of emotion and thought from Butch were too confusing for her.

Therefore, she herself had to rely on instinct and plain old deduction.

From her training sessions, and from memories of past battles between Butch and Buttercup, Blossom knew that Butch relied heavily on his sheer physical strength to win. However, she did notice as she fought him that at certain intervals he used his speed to his advantage. He was a muscle-brained lout, yes, but he was at least a somewhat smart muscle-brained lout. If he had used only his strength to fight her, she would have been severely disappointed and their training wouldn't have been as fun. However, as he hadn’t and had actually utilized his ridiculous speed that she had learned was his secondary special ability, their sessions had been rather enjoyable for her.

Dare she say it, but she had _fun_ training with Butch. After each training session, they spent a good ten minutes to almost additional hour just talking. There wasn't much she could contribute, her memories still fuzzy and those that she did remember making her stiffen. Butch, however, turned out to be a wonderful storyteller, even if those stories verged on vulgar. Nevertheless, she still found herself laughing at him and his antics and it had become hard not to smile at him when she passed him in the hallway during the day. Not that he had any issue sending her grins and winks that left whoever he was with baffled, but she was trying to keep it a secret that they had become…maybe friends?

Of course, the secret meetings hadn’t been all that had happened. In those four weeks, Blossom was reacquainted with a couple of old friends, namely Robin Snyder and Hanout Anoush. Robin was a nurse in the infirmary and was specially trained to attend all injuries and illnesses of the puffs and ruffs. Hanout, in the meanwhile, was an intermediate officer in the Resistance, a junior sergeant, just a rank under Butch, and was one of the few people with direct influence from Brick who believed in her. The first time she had seen the two, she barely recognized them until Robin squealed her name and hugged her.

Robin’s reaction to seeing her made the conflicted emotions inside her even more tangled. On one hand, she liked the fact that they did trust her despite the aliens holding her prisoner. On the other hand, she felt a little disappointed that they weren’t being more cautious. That was why she agreed with the idea of what Brick was doing. She herself didn't know what she was capable of anymore, so they should treat her with some more caution than usual. Nevertheless, she still believed he was taking it a little too far at the same time.

Yes, she knew that she remembered nothing and still had that underlying fear of Aterex, but at the same time, she knew her power had grown greatly and that there was a reason why she had been taken. Those bloody memories, with their faded and dark depths, that had arisen during her fight with Emmons and her training sessions attested to that theory. They had wanted her for something, they had _trained_ her for something, and she…she couldn't remember _what_.

Sighing, Blossom leaned her head back, her book lying forgotten on her chest. That just brought another thought to her mind, one that she had been trying to ignore for a few days now.

It amazed her that she could get away with her secret training for so long. The Resistance was large, that was obvious, but it wasn’t so large that someone wouldn’t notice two people sneaking out and using the training simulator after long. It worried her that she and Butch were able to get away with it for so long without the slightest suspicion from Brick. There was no suspicious glance whenever Butch would greet her or interact with her in the hallways. There was no subtle hint in the way he talked to Butch or in the way that he nonchalantly mentioned her when she was standing feet from him.

Brick was many things, but stupid was not one of them.

With knowing that, she was unbelievably worried about whether or not the red ruff knew about the training sessions. She would push the thought away and focus on something else, but her mind would go back to those sessions and, inevitably, the thought of if Brick knew. Moreover, despite the fear she felt, she wondered what Brick would do if he did know. She played with her bangs as she thought over that. He would be angry, so very angry, and suddenly she was shivering. The way those red eyes glowed in her mind was frightening and yet...oddly enticing.

It would be a nice change from the blank stares he had been giving her, at the very least.

She let out a groan as someone called out, “There you are!”

Blossom sat up, her book falling to her lap as Robin hurried over to her. Smiling a bit, she said, “Oh, hello, Robin. What can I do for you?”

The brunette rolled her eyes, blowing some stray hairs from her face. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned a little forward.

Robin and she had been meeting up almost every day over the past month. There was much to catch up on, even if Blossom couldn't contribute much without her hands shaking and red memories spilling into her psyche. Robin was more than happy to fill the conversation for her, carefully redirecting it when it became clear that it was becoming too much for Blossom.

Robin had always been good at taking care of her and her sisters in that way. She _was_ their best friend, after all, even if Blossom had never asked if that title remained now.

“Uh, we’re supposed to be going to see your dad?” At Blossom’s furrowed brows, the nurse snorted. “The Professor said he could meet you today?”

“I…right, right.” The redhead ran a hand through her hair, upsetting the bow tied in back. “I forgot.”

Robin tilted her head, considering her friend. “Mm. You’ve been quite…absent-minded lately. Very unlike the Blossom that I knew.”

“I’ve…had a lot on my mind lately,” the pink puff responded, sighing softly. She gave the nurse a smile though, trying to dispel the murky thoughts that had entered Robin’s mind. “But it’s fine. It’s mostly just me forcing myself to remember.”

Not entirely convinced, Robin narrowed her eyes at Blossom. The murky thoughts grew sharper with her suspicion and worry. She just tried smiling back, hoping to appease her.

“If you say so… But on that note!” Robin frowned as the redhead stood, leering in a motherly way. “Forcing yourself to remember will bring you nothing, but headaches! You can’t force amnesia to go away. Sometimes it doesn’t for a long time. You just have to let the memories return over time.”

“I know that.” Her voice came out sharp, even to her own ears, and Blossom immediately gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I know all that. It still doesn’t stop me from trying to forcefully remember them.” A downhearted look punctuated her statement before the redhead shook her head. “Anyway, shall we head to see the Professor now?”

“Fine, fine,” Robin said airily, still frowning at her friend. She bumped Blossom’s shoulder with her own. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to…I’m here.”

At Robin’s encouraging smile, the pink-eyed woman felt that bubbly feeling of friendship. She had sorely missed Robin, had sorely missed her warm smiles and bright outlook. Even the apocalypse hadn't seemed to change that, or, at least, she didn't let the apocalypse tame her.

She had a feeling that she didn't have ask about the best friend thing. Robin would never let that come between them.

She returned her friend’s smile, softly murmuring, “Thank you.”

The two women set out then, descending the stairs to the first floor. They walked in a comfortable silence, passing by the gathered children for Ms. Keane’s class. None of the children acknowledged their presence, save a little girl with pigtails and two little boys, one of which openly glared at Blossom. The little girl, however, gave said puff a large grin before she returned to her work. A small smile formed on the young woman’s face from that.

She and Robin passed through the doors to the library and began their journey through the halls. The halls were still confusing as ever and the pink puff was thankful for her exploration of them during her four weeks there to help her navigate them. It didn’t take the two women long to get to their destination, despite the numerous amount of times they were stopped.

Once had been by Buttercup, asking what Blossom was up to before Bubbles cuffed her in the ear and told her to hurry up. Yelping, her green sister had shot a fiery glare at the blue puff before grumbling to Blossom that she would see her later. It was very amusing to see the green puff grumble about the training that she needed despite how much she wanted to join the Resistance.

Another time had been by two coworkers of Robin’s, both of whom had made it blatantly obvious that they highly distrusted Blossom. They hadn’t said it, but their actions were like glaring flares. The looks of undisguised fear and doubt both irritated and saddened the redhead. While she respected their fear, at the same time, the overprotective way they acted about Robin annoyed her. The blue-eyed woman trusted her despite their misgivings (and her own, Blossom noted) and they should respect that, not treat Robin like a child. It had taken several minutes of nonsensical medical jargon for Blossom to lose her patience and, after a soft huff of indignation from the pink puff, Robin had told her coworkers that if they needed help to talk to one of the other nurses.

A few minutes later, the two friends were now standing outside the Professor’s lab. Humming to herself, Robin typed in the pass code and, after the door hissed open, walked inside with her friend.

The lab looked the same as it had when Blossom had first seen it, except now there were more people bustling around and there was a room with dark, blood red thoughts. She shivered involuntarily, eyes instantly fixating on said door. A thermometer on the door read somewhere below freezing, but the cold did not deter the dark thoughts. Emmons was in there and, despite the strength of the thoughts, she was sure he was dying. She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but somehow she was certain that the Narcassian blood he had ingested was slowly corroding him, eating away at both his body and his mind.

The sound of the Professor's voice pulled her away from this revelation. Tearing her gaze from the door, she settled it on her father as he hurried over to them. There was a large grin on his face that she couldn’t help returning. He just looked so happy for whatever reason.

His mere presence also eased the dark thoughts swirling around her mind.

“Hi, Professor,” she greeted warmly.

He continued to smile as he answered, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get some time for us to talk, but I’ve just been so busy with analyzing the condition of Emmons.” His face took on a brooding look as he showed them into a back room, which looked very much like a small lounge. “It’s quite…well, it’s quite fascinating. His cell and DNA structure have _mutated_ somehow. Almost like…like _X-Men_ to sound like a geek.”

“You are a geek, Prof,” Robin said good-naturedly.

He continued, as if he didn't hear her, “But it’s not like a mutation caused by radiation. There’s _no_ cell damage at all! It’s almost as if his body naturally mutated, but that mutation is now killing him.”

A shiver passed through Blossom at that and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. She knew Emmons was dying. Somehow, though, it was much worse when the Professor confirmed that fact. Shaking her head, she took a seat at the small round table and murmured a thank you as the Professor set down a mug of tea in front of her.

“It’s because he ingested the blood,” she said after the Professor and Robin sat down. Both looked at her with identical shocked looks that she didn’t see because she had covered her eyes. “I…when he attacked me, I slipped into his mind and saw the memory of what happened to him.” Uncovering her eyes, she clasped her hands together and leaned her mouth against them thoughtfully. “A Narcassian forced him to drink its blood.”

Robin’s face contorted in a disgusted look as the Professor leaned forward eagerly.

“Do you remember something, Blossom?” he asked, eyes widening. “Something from…when you were with the aliens?”

Brows furrowing, the redhead didn’t respond right away. She had remembered a lot in the weeks since she had been found. In fact, she had remembered something about the blood of the Narcassians, but it was still fuzzy. She knew that it didn’t always have the same effect that had occurred with Emmons, but if she focused hard enough, she could just remember that those other times the blood hadn’t been in its purest form. If she was remembering correctly, somehow the Narcassians turned the blood into the drug that had been used to control her.

“The blood…it only has this effect if it’s in its purest state,” she finally said, eyes focused on a small brownish smudge on the table. Red flickered in her mind, fuzzy pill-like shapes dancing behind her eyes. “It…was an ingredient in the drug used to keep me controlled.”

There was silence before the both of them exploded. Robin was near hysterics, her voice an octave or so higher than it had been a moment ago. She was babbling on about something or other, something about side effects and unknown entities in the bloodstream, but even Blossom couldn’t make it out with the Professor’s angry ranting about barbaric aliens and black demons and “If I had military experience, I’d give those aliens what for!” The pink puff watched them for a moment, both amused and shocked at their reaction, before holding up her hands to calm them down.

“I’m fine,” she reasoned, letting a small grin form on her face as she tugged Robin and the Professor back into their seats. “I metabolized the drug much faster than others. There were no side-effects either.”

“Even still!” Robin cried, grabbing Blossom’s hands. “Just the fact that the drug was made out of their _blood_ freaks me out! I mean, look how it affected Emmons!”

“I have to agree with Robin, Blossom,” the Professor added, fixing his tie. He wrung the silken material between his fingers as he looked at his daughter. “…it’s a scary thought, even with the knowledge that the blood was only an ingredient and that what happened to Emmons was because of the blood being in its purest form. It’s…frightening imagining what could have happened to you along with all that _did_ happen!”

Blossom felt a retort form on her tongue, but she let it die at the sight of the Professor’s face. It must have been extremely hard on him not knowing what had happened to his eldest daughter. To him, who had been the only parental figure (save Ms. Keane) in the Girls’ lives, it must have been a living hell, being without one of his precious babies. After all, Bubbles hadn't left his side and, though Buttercup wasn’t immediately near him, she was still close enough that he could visit her.

But Blossom? Blossom had been in a place that no one would willingly follow her.

“All right,” she sighed, slumping a little. “Moving on from that…Professor, I’ve wanted to ask you about our special abilities.”

She would rather get off this topic before the memories became worse. She could hear whispers in her ears about her metabolism, about needing a stronger dose, stronger blood, and her stomach was knotting. A sinking suspicion told her just whose blood might have been used to make the drug that controlled her.

The Professor carefully sipped his tea to collect himself. His face still twisted a little, but after a couple sips, he let out a sigh. Setting down his cup, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Primary or secondary?”

“Secondary,” Blossom answered after a moment of deliberation.

She had long since accepted the random way in which their primary special abilities had formed. One could argue that Bubbles developing abilities attributed to her voice was because of her open personality and willingness to communicate or that Blossom's ice breath was from her keeping her cool during battle. In comparison, though, what did electrokinesis say about Boomer? Or a force field about Butch? Not to mention Buttercup and Brick, both of whom had developed their special abilities much later than the rest of them.

There was no rhyme or reason. Therefore, she would rather focus on the secondary abilities to see if they too were random.

“Hmm. I see,” the Professor said as he leaned back in his chair. “I take it you want to know why, or rather, _how_ , they developed. Well, I’ve come up with a theory about that, actually. I think some of you developed the powers through a desire to be something. Ah, take Buttercup and Butch for example. Butch’s secondary ability is extreme speed, yes? He once told me that he wanted to be the fastest when he was little…that he hated losing to Boomer in that front. And now, what does he have?”

“Extreme speed,” Blossom murmured and her father nodded.

“Precisely. And Buttercup has always wanted to be the strongest and she developed what we have dubbed her beast mode,” he continued. “Thus making her the strongest when said mode is activated. On the other hand, I think some of you developed abilities not from the desire to be something, but simply as an amplification to the abilities that you already had. Take Bubbles, for example. She’s always had a great prowess with her voice, such as her sonic scream and her ability with languages. Therefore, because she had no desire for anything that could affect her physically, she simply developed powers that were similar to those she already had. Her hypnosis voice and voice mimicry.

“Boomer, however, is like Butch and Buttercup.” The Professor rubbed his chin as he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “He said he always wanted to be normal and to blend in…thus he developed invisibility and illusionary powers that expand no more than his own body. As for you and Brick… I believe Brick developed the immunity to preternatural mind control because, and this is just a hypothesis, but because he has such a strong will. He certainly doesn't like to be controlled. I can tell you that. Your telepathy, I would assume, probably developed because you’ve always had that uncanny knack to read and analyze people.”

“Hmm…that makes sense,” Blossom murmured, pressing her right index knuckle to her lips. She hadn't realized that about Brick, though, and filed the information away in her mind. Something was ringing about that, something deep inside those red memories, but she didn't want to understand just then. She needed to be present. “That certainly does explain our secondary abilities. However…it doesn’t explain the empathy link I share with Bubbles and Buttercup. And why only the three of us have that when the Boys don't.”

The Professor frowned, pressing a hand to his mouth.

"I…am not entirely sure about that,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled. “What I’ve come to believe is that the link was formed because of the distance between you three.”

“Huh?” Robin looked utterly confused as Blossom asked seriously, “What do you mean?”

“Ah…what I’m trying to say is that the three of you slightly depended on the emotions of each other when you fought. If you remember correctly, whenever all three of you shared an emotion, your power was nearly tripled, almost quadrupled, in strength,” the Professor explained, picking up his teacup again. He took a sip and blinked, looking down at the cup. He hadn’t realized he had finished it. Clearing his throat, he placed the cup down and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “These are all hypotheses, of course, and guessing, but that’s all I can say.”

His eldest daughter just nodded as she turned everything over in her mind. It certainly made sense, even if it was a hypothesis. Folding her hands, she pressed her entangled fingers to her mouth again as she leaned forward slightly. The way she had developed her telepathy, the way that empathy link tugged ever so slightly on her psyche. She had always been good at analyzing things, but sometimes she had had issues with people. Maybe there had been a part of desire there as well, then, to be able to read people better.

Her glazed pink eyes flickered up to her father a moment, unintentionally reading the organized, scientific thoughts going through his mind. Most of them were clipped as if he was quickly going over plans of action. And, for all she knew, he could be. A sudden influx of urgency from outside the room shattered it, though.

The door to the lounge opened and Elmer rushed in panting, hastily pushing up his glasses. At the sight of Elmer’s face, both the Professor and Blossom stood, their chairs clattering as they did. The Professor moved quickly around the table and towards the young man, who gasped to bring oxygen to his lungs. The elder man placed a hand on his shoulder and Elmer looked up, still gasping like a fish.

“They…need you…Em…mons…life…help…!” he panted, fumbling in his pocket for his inhaler.

The Professor stared at Elmer with wide eyes for the briefest of moments before running towards the door. Just as he reached it, he turned, looking back at the panicked faces of Blossom and Robin. His dark eyes met his daughter’s and the pink puff frowned before nodding. Flashing them a weary grin, he rushed through the door.

Once the Professor left, Robin looked at Blossom, who was standing stock-still and staring at the door. Though she didn’t have any kind of special ability, the nurse knew that her friend was listening, or trying to listen, to what was going on in the other room. She knew her well enough to know that the redhead was blaming herself. It was one of the things she had noticed about Blossom in their years as friends, at least before she was taken.

The Powerpuff Leader piled all the responsibility onto herself and if something went wrong, it was because of her. Not because of a misstep from her sisters or some unknowable factor, but because she hadn't been able to account for it. So, it must be her fault. It had been Robin's job to mediate this behavior when they were younger, to keep the pink puff grounded when she even dismissed her sisters telling her it was fine.

Would Blossom even accept such words now?

Watching her back, Robin felt her heart go out to her friend. Even though she had no reason to hold any responsibility, even though she didn’t have the opportunity to do so, Blossom still piled it onto her shoulders. She could see that plain as day. Habits were hard to break.

Standing with a sigh, she gently touched her friend’s shoulder. Her touch brought the pink-eyed puff’s attention to her and those eyes looked haunted. Her heart clenched painfully.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Robin murmured, squeezing her shoulder. “And all of this? _It is not your fault_. What happened to Emmons is _not_ your fault.”

Blossom looked torn and turned away from her friend. While she had told them about the blood, she hadn’t told them about what the alien had told him to do. It still scared her how far they were willing to go to get her. How many people would they use? How many innocent lives would be taken just for them to attempt to get to her? Her chest burned at the thought. If the aliens were that desperate, no one was safe.

At least, no one who wasn’t in the protective confines of the Resistance.

“…but what if it is?” she asked softly, so softly that Robin had to lean in close. “What if I _am_ at fault?”

Lips pressed firmly in a line at that, her friend didn’t answer and instead turned an accusing leer to Elmer who was still in the room. The young man squeaked and shuffled out hurriedly. The nurse watched him with that same accusing look, but the moment he was out of the room, she was frowning thoughtfully.

She didn't have to think long, however. For her, the answer was easy.

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally said, her voice firm. Blossom was about to argue, but Robin turned to her with an expression that brought her up short. “ _It doesn’t matter_. Because you’ve been through hell and back.” Not waiting for her friend’s response, she pulled her from the room. “Let’s go before Emmons goes into the death throws and things get bad. And before Brick arrives.”

Blossom let Robin lead her from the room. However, as they left, passing the frantic scientists and the doctors that had been called in, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder at the chaos. Guilt built in her chest, but she could do nothing besides let Robin lead her away from it all. There was nothing she could do.

They were just leaving when the first of Emmons’ screams echoed through the lab.

* * *

It had been the middle of hand-to-hand combat training when Bubbles had been called away. The blonde-haired woman had had Buttercup in a submission hold before her communicator went off. She barely released her growling older sister before she was heading out of the door.

That left Buttercup frozen in a push-up position as she watched Bubbles’ progress across the room and out of the door. It was as if she had forgotten all about what she was doing. No one else, besides Brick and his brothers, could train Buttercup. Since there were only the four of them as officers, that limited the amount of people who could handle her. However, it was pretty much accepted that Butch was terrible at teaching and Brick was far too busy, leaving the two blonds.

Bubbles had grudgingly volunteered, mostly because of pent up anger at the raven-haired woman. Buttercup at least suspected that was the case, especially if she considered the dull flares of emotion coming from the blue puff when they trained. The aggressive way she had been teaching her also gave that away.

And she had just left.

Buttercup couldn’t be trained by anyone without super powers, so, seeing as her senior officer and personal trainer had just flown the coop, the green puff hurried after her. She spared the other recruits a vicious grin and a wink for the disgruntled faces of Mitch and Harry, who had also joined when she told them that she was, before disappearing through the door. However, once she was through, there was nothing on the other side, save a few people heading in random directions. She still wasn’t sure about the layout of things in the Resistance, but she at least knew where the essential places were: the cafeteria, her apartment, the training room, the Professor’s lab, and the door out.

Choosing the most logical way (read: taking a guess), the green puff flew hurriedly down it before any of the other officers could stop her escape. It had been her choice to join, but she still felt irritable at having to listen to them. At least it was better than six years ago, but she still didn't like it.

It was much more natural to listen to Blossom, but even the redhead had urged her to comply with the orders…even _Brick’s_. That pissed her off.

Brick had almost killed Blossom on numerous occasions; the green puff could vividly see the multitude of cuts, bruises, fractures, and breaks that had littered the pink puff’s body. She had always had an uncanny memory about their battles; while for Blossom and Bubbles each one melted into another, for her each battle was set apart by the wounds they received. The battles with no wounds were just a blur of color. It was because of those memories that she was angry at Blossom’s compliance to Brick’s wants.

Sure, she and Bubbles had received injuries from Butch and Boomer, but it was _different_. They had been forced to work together because of the damn aliens. Brick hadn't wanted to work with them and Buttercup hadn't wanted to work with _him_. She especially didn't want to _listen_ to him.

With her emotions growing into a tizzy, she nearly missed Boomer heading in the direction of the Professor’s lab at an accelerated pace. Curious, and hoping that he knew where Bubbles had gone, she followed and flew next to him as he ran.

“Aren’t you supposed to be training?” Boomer asked without looking, his hair blown away from his face from his speed. He seemed to be keeping it in check, despite being the fastest of them all. At least when Butch wasn't using his extreme speed.

“ _Lieutenant Utonium_ ran off in the middle of it,” she responded, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “What’s the rush?”

He frowned. “Something’s up with Emmons.”

At the name, her sneering smile slipped. Her body instantly became tense, preparing itself for a fight she didn’t even know was coming. She gritted her teeth. If something was up with Emmons, the soldier whom _Blossom_ had iced, it was rational to assume that whatever was going to happen was going to bite the pink puff in the posterior.

She was not going to let anything bad happen to her leader.

“Is he finally going to bite it?” she asked, eyes focusing on their destination as they rounded a corner.

The lab was within eyesight and Boomer looked ever graver than before. “He probably already did.”

When the two entered the lab, the utter chaos Robin and Blossom had left was just winding down. Bubbles, Brick, and Butch stood outside the door to the room in which Emmons had been stored. Steam rolled from the doorway and Buttercup had to remind herself that they had to keep him at a low temperature so that his body didn’t start rapidly breaking down. No one knew what had caused the breakdown or the mutations, though Blossom had once murmured to Buttercup it had to do with blood, but the green puff didn’t understand what that had to do with anything. Blood was just blood, wasn’t it? Albeit, there were diseases transferred by blood, but that didn’t have anything to do with Emmons…right?

Floating behind Boomer, the green puff managed a cold smile at Bubbles’ furious look, but she didn’t spare her ex-sister anything more than that. She was more focused on finding her father. From Robin, whom she was overjoyed to be reacquainted with, she had learned that the Professor had spent many a sleepless night pondering over Emmons and had ended up in the infirmary more frequently than usual over the past month, either because of his insomnia or because of some test of some sort. He had become very attached to the case, but no one knew if it was because of the strangeness of it or because Blossom was involved in it.

Either way, it had become his pet case.

The Professor emerged from the steaming room, his face looking hollow and gray. His lips were pressed in a tight line and he just stared at the ground for a moment before giving any attention to the five waiting superpowered people. Even then, though, he didn’t say anything and just shook his head. There were no words needed to express what had happened. Emmons was dead…and from the exhausted look on the Professor’s face, it hadn’t been a pretty end.

Buttercup floated over to her father’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing reassuringly. Because she knew that despite Emmons’ death, no matter how gruesome or terrible, the Professor was just as, if not more so, worried about how Blossom was going to be dragged into it.

After all, Blossom had been the one to freeze him. Blossom was the one who had fought him. Blossom was the one who Emmons had attacked. It all went back to her and everyone had mixed emotions about the once beloved Powerpuff leader.

Particularly a paranoid Resistance general.

“So he’s dead?” Butch, of course, was the one to break the silence and he let out a heavy breath. “ _Finally_. It’s been, what? A month or something since he was brought in as an Emmonsicle?”

“Can you be anymore insensitive?” Buttercup remarked, making a face as she pulled away from the Professor’s one-armed hug.

“What? I’m just stating what we were _all_ thinking,” her counterpart said with his hands out stretched. “I mean, really, we were all waiting for Emmons to kick it.”

“You have the sensitivity of a rock, you know that?”

“What did you find, Professor?” Brick asked before Butch could respond. His expression and voice were flat despite a very slight tightness to his posture.

The Professor shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “His mutation was biological, like he just started spontaneously mutating. Almost every day, when we rose the temperature enough for him to function, he always said he needed to kill someone.” His mouth twisted and Buttercup cut her glaring contest with Butch to turn worriedly to her father. “He…He always said he needed to kill Blossom.”

“Kill her? Why?” Bubbles asked, looking less angry and more confused now that she focused on their father.

“I don’t know,” he murmured softly, running his hands through his hair.

For a moment, Brick let the scientist fuss angrily with his hair before asking, “And what of the mutation?”

This question caused the older man to pause and look up almost uncomprehendingly at the red-eyed general. Then he bit his lip and sighed, shoulders slumping.

“The mutation, as I mentioned before, is biological, almost natural in occurrence. No cell or tissue damage happened, he just started mutating.” Here the Professor paused, picking his next words carefully. “I…had a meeting earlier with…with Blossom. And I mentioned some of what happened to Emmons with her.”

Brick’s face was unreadable, but there was a certain dark cast to it and his eyebrows were more furrowed. The other four had various stages of shock on their faces, but Butch looked otherwise unperturbed and Buttercup had a slightly happy tinge to her gaping mouth. The Professor used to talk to Blossom all the time about his experiments and inventions, something that Blossom had always enjoyed, so Buttercup was more than happy to hear that their father was still continuing that.

However, the Professor only looked at Brick, who seemed to be fighting some kind of internal battle. Whatever the outcome of that battle within him, the red ruff sighed almost violently, as if accepting the fact that the Professor couldn’t keep anything from his daughters when they outright asked.

“And…what did she say?” he finally asked, his voice almost painful in its flatness.

Wincing, the Professor said, “She said she looked into his mind and found that a Narcassian made him drink its blood.”

“Ewww.”

Both Bubbles and Buttercup cringed at that, making similar disgusted faces. Even Boomer looked less than thrilled at the knowledge, his lip curling with his own disgust. No matter how used to seeing blood they were, the action of _ingesting_ it was just a step too far… _especially_ ingesting Narcassian blood.

“What is the significance of ingesting an alien’s blood aside from this mutation?” Brick inquired, but his eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He was probably puzzling through the significance himself, but waited for the Professor’s two cents anyway. He wanted to know if the conclusion he drew was the same as the older man’s opinion.

“Apparently Narcassian blood as a mind controlling effect that is a natural attribute to it,” the Professor explained, rubbing his mouth. “Again, taking from what Blossom has told me, the mutation effect that occurred in Emmons only occurs when the blood is in its purest state. The blood was apparently an ingredient in the drug the Narcassians used to keep Blossom under their control.”

For a moment, there was total silence, as the five superhumans looked him, trying to find any hint of jest or trickery in his face.

When it was clear that he was deadly serious, Butch breathed out, “Jesus”, while Bubbles tried to tame her trembling bottom lip. Boomer and Brick were the only two who seemed unaffected, though Boomer’s mouth was tight and his jaw was visibly taut. Buttercup, on the other hand, had her mouth agape in shock before it snapped shut and that all too familiar green fire slowly encased her. She bared her teeth in a snarl, but the Professor stared straight back at her, frowning.

Around her, the other four tensed as they waited for her to do something… _anything_. If the Professor hadn’t been staring her down, Buttercup might have shot through the ceiling, through the rock layers over top of the Resistance, just to get to Aterex’s black city. She would have let nothing stop her, would kill thousands and thousands, all to get vengeance for her sister. She didn’t care how anyone would respond to that. She just wanted to see that filthy, putrid blood that those aliens dared make her sister ingest in the form of a drug. It would be wonderful and bloody and there would be carnage _everywhere_. Her monster purred as glowing green eyes stayed locked with fatherly blue ones.

“I’ll kill them,” she promised him, the aura flickering before she let go of her anger, of her blood thirst, of her pain. She recited a quick mantra, something that she had long since stopped doing and should probably pick up again. Her eyes stay glued to her father’s. “I’m going to kill them all.”

“You’ll get your chance,” the Professor responded, letting out a relieved breath, before looking at Brick. He was still waiting for a response from the young man.

In truth, Brick wasn’t sure how to articulate his emotions. The blood-drug was disgusting, yes, and the blood’s effects in its purest form were certainly terrifying, but he didn’t want to think about them in correlation to his counterpart. He didn’t want to think about what the drug made her do. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that the real reason why he didn’t allow Pinky to join the Resistance was that he didn’t want her near him. The mere thought of her sent his blood racing and boiling and made his muscles tense and battle ready.

Logically, Brick knew that his counterpart would never do anything against her moral code, would never do anything to harm her family or friends. He knew that, knew that her faking her amnesia was ridiculous, knew that all Buttercup’s accusations were practically spot on. He hated her and knew that if they were together for more than needed without anyone around, he would…do something. Attack her, hurt her, do something that he would no doubt regret.

The knowledge that she had been controlled with a drug by the aliens didn’t really faze him. It was logical. Pinky was too noble and, dammit, he hated that. He wanted her to have been tempted by the aliens, to not have been completely controlled by the drug. He wanted her not to be pure and innocent. That way he could have an excuse to continue keeping her out of the military. Just a little reason, just a tiny one, so he could prolong the distance between them.

“So Pinky was controlled with a blood drug,” he finally said, keeping his face as neutral as possible. “Admittedly, this lifts some suspicion, but without exact knowledge, I will uphold the title of ‘potential threat’ until further notice.”

He waited for a beat and wasn’t disappointed when Buttercup whirled around with a vicious snarl. “What the fucking hell! The Prof basically just told you that Blossom had no control when she was with the Narcassians and you _still_ refuse to let her join the Resistance!? What is this bullshit!?”

“We don’t know to what extant the drug controlled her. Without the knowledge of how strong the drug was, we cannot know just how much control she had over her mind when she took it. For all we know, she might have had some semblance of control even under the influence. For now, she is still a possible threat,” Brick explicated, lifting his chin a little.

The green puff bared her teeth at him.

“If it’s any help, Blossom did tell me that she metabolized the drug faster than others,” the Professor chimed in, placing a hand on Buttercup’s shoulder. The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes, but did not break eye contact with the red ruff. “She probably wasn’t the only one under the influence of the blood drug.”

“However, without actually meeting another person who was influenced, we can’t just throw caution to the wind,” Bubbles finally said, but the look on her face was anything but accusatory. She looked conflicted more than anything else and refused to look at either Buttercup or Brick. “For now…I agree with the General’s continued caution.”

The hiss from Buttercup was dissatisfied, but with the Professor holding her shoulder, she dared not do anything. As much as she wanted to hit Brick or her sister, she grudgingly accepted that, while they _still_ didn’t trust Blossom, they were accepting of the fact that the aliens had controlled her when she had been in their claws. It would have to be enough for now.

The raven-haired woman huffed and crossed her arms, but she didn’t look outright hostile anymore. Now her facial expression showed more aggravation and she rolled her eyes.

“I should really get used to you guys being stubborn,” she admitted, leering Brick, “but it _still_ pisses me off.”

“What? More than I do?” Butch cut in and his counterpart looked his way, rising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’ve gotten tame over the years, Butchy boy. You need to step up your game.”

The green ruff dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me!”

Both Buttercup and Boomer snorted at that and Butch got at least part of the response he wanted. It was pretty sucky that Emmons was dead, but an argument over Blossom wouldn’t solve anything. That was also something the pink puff herself didn’t need. She already had enough on her plate; Butch had been witness to a few of her memory episodes and he had had no idea what to do when they happened. He had grudgingly asked Robin about it, surprising the young woman, and she had told him there was really nothing that any of them could do. Blossom had to remember by herself.

He didn’t want to admit that he was becoming kind of attached to her. It somewhat freaked him out, how easy it was being around her and how much he cared already. Maybe it was partly influenced by the Rebels and Buttercup, seeing how much they cared and loved Blossom despite everything. Their training was fun and it had been a long while since he had such exhilarating fights. Boomer and Brick didn't train with him anymore and simulations only went so far. With Blossom and her super brain, they were a challenge that he relished. He wasn't about to let anything happen to her.

For the moment, he would play the fool and get their siblings’ minds off Emmons and her. It was better than getting all sappy and emotional.

As the green ruff joked with Buttercup, subtly edging his brothers, the two puffs, and the Professor away from Emmons’ room, Butch thought over the green puff’s words. Maybe he was getting tame…

* * *

Blossom had been ready to go to sleep, mind still full of the day’s events, when her communicator went off. Excitement had immediately buzzed across her skin. She knew that out of maybe four people, only one ever sent her a message so late at night. The message had been short, simply a time with “Y/N” tacked on at the end. After all that had happened, though, she hadn’t been sure how to answer. For the last few days, she and Butch had been sparring almost nonstop. It was almost as if he was training her and that might actually thrill her if it was true. She was more than eager to jump into another session.

However, after Emmons’ death and the unhidden hostility that had followed from his comrades, Blossom had felt the weight of their anger and grief on her bones. She couldn't escape them anywhere in the Resistance, her only solace her room in the living quarters. She had spent the rest of the day in her room, only venturing out for meals since, any time she went any farther, the thoughts assaulted her with anger and blame and fear. She felt exhausted from fighting off those red, red thoughts, but the temptation of sparring, of releasing that responsibility, was much too sweet to pass up. As bad as she felt, Butch was probably the one person who wouldn't be defensive around her.

And so, she sat on one of the benches as she waited for him to show up. She still felt a little guilty that she was partaking in something that brought her pleasure despite the death that she had indirectly caused. She reasoned that she was doing this in Emmons’ honor, so that she was strong enough to protect everyone from the Narcassians. To get that strength, she needed to train, and who was better to train with than the self-proclaimed strongest Rowdyruff?

Running her hands over the face, the redhead tried to ignore the flutter of nervousness in her stomach. She was still worried about Brick finding out, if he wasn’t already aware. She knew Butch would never tell, mostly because she threatened bodily harm of a _delicate_ nature and could read his mind, but she still worried. Brick had his ways and he wasn’t stupid.

Biting her lip, Blossom perked up at the pneumatic hiss that heralded Butch’s entrance. The green ruff waved at her, floating from the door to the simulator. She quickly moved to his side, frowning slightly at the swirl of thoughts in his head. She wasn’t being mean when she said that Butch was usually a simple-minded person. He didn’t usually let things bother him, but she could tell that he was mulling over something.

She just hoped it didn’t have anything to do with her. She didn’t want to cause him any problems, considering what he was doing for her.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you worry so much,” the sergeant remarked, grinning lopsidedly as she swatted his arm.

She smiled in response, albeit weakly. “You don’t worry enough!”

“I worry,” he retorted and the smile faltered a little, his expression more subdued. He turned back to the simulator, punching in his access code. “Just…not very often.”

His voice was softer and Blossom frowned at such an out of character reaction. She could tell that the green ruff had mellowed out considerably over the years. She certainly couldn’t call him psychotic now, but such a soft voice wasn’t like him. He should have just laughed it off, teasing her for her motherliness and chastisement, not make a face like the one he was making at that moment. How did she respond to that?

Cautiously, she touched his arm and opened her mouth to say something, ignoring the open door of the training simulator, when another voice echoed from across the room.

“This is a surprise.”

The voice wasn’t surprised, though, but neither was it angry. It was painfully, painfully neutral and two pairs of wide eyes whirled towards the two faintly glowing irises coming towards them.

Blossom felt her stomach fall and Butch hissed out a curse. The glowing-no… _burning_ eyes stopped ten feet away from them.

The pink puff swallowed thickly.

No, Brick wasn’t stupid. At all.


	10. Chapter 9: Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has been a long time coming. Six years in fact. It is also the longest chapter so far as my way of apologizing for disappearing so long. Life just happened, but here it is! 
> 
> A confession: I actually had most of this chapter written (the Brick scene is the newest addition, from a conversation with Carriedreamer). I have a particular update habit for Storm, where I won't post one chapter until I have the next one written. For example, this chapter was technically done, but I never posted it because I hadn't finished chapter 10. It's so I have a buffer. 
> 
> But enough of my rambling! Thank you for all those that have waited so long for Storm to come back! Please enjoy this chapter!

“This is a surprise.”

No matter how neutral his voice sounded, Blossom knew that Brick was livid. The vibrancy of his eyes, and the matching burning thoughts, only helped that deduction. It felt like it had been years since she had experienced his anger. Then she had to remind herself that, really, it _had_ been years since she last saw a flare-up from him, but that wasn't important right now. Her muddy memories could be dealt with later, when there wasn't an angry superhuman walking towards her.

Brick stopped about ten, fifteen feet away from them, face mostly hidden by the darkness of the room. She could just barely see him, the nighttime lights that lined the lower walls doing only enough to cast shadows across the floor and mess ever so slightly with her night vision. Even without the light, though, she would have been able to find him. His eyes were just so bright, his thoughts just as burning.

Really, he was anything, but stupid.

She wondered what had taken him so long to address Butch’s constant simulator use. After all, it had to be logged or something…right? Moreover, Brick had a whole resistance readily available. Not every soldier could have been that busy during the last month that he couldn’t spare at least _one_ to check on Butch’s behavior. The likelihood of her counterpart just ignoring his brother wasn't very high, either. She figured that either the green ruff had lied when asked, considering Brick’s order to fallback and Butch’s personality, or it really _was_ just his rowdy personality and it was construed as normal behavior when at the base. It could also very well be a combination of both, knowing Butch. If Brick had been fooled by his brother’s lies, what was he doing here?

The silence was suffocating and tense. Butch had squared his shoulders, standing defiantly in front of his brother. On the other hand, Brick was deceptively relaxed, but Blossom had fought him too many times that even ten years separation couldn’t erase her ability to notice the tautness of his body, shoulders tense, and arms hanging loose at his sides. She felt her own body ready itself, his red thoughts stirring the upheaval of her memories, tugging on the muddied ones as well as the childhood ones, both unwelcome.

Swallowing, she analyzed the general, waiting for the right moment to…speak, maybe? Certainly not attack; that would only make him angrier. However, as things were, something had to be done before someone did something stupid.

“Isn’t it? I’ve never seen you out of the OR at this time of night. You’re kinda like a fucking vampire.”

Like that.

Blossom cringed at the green ruff’s nonchalance. Of all people, he should have been the person most aware of when Brick was angry, even more so than her. It should be obvious the extent of the general’s anger at the moment. He wasn’t out right furious, but the simmering, scarlet thoughts were enough to pull on her memories. It pulled on the faded memories because anger was the easiest of their triggers. Brick’s ire, though not apparent, was too strong for the memories to ignore, painting foggy images just beyond her eyelids. She tried focusing on him, on his eyes, anything to keep the memories at bay.

His glowing eyes were much brighter than the gloom of the training room called for. Antagonizing him would help neither of them, especially her, right now. Her fingers twitched.

The memories of their childhood fights bit her skin. His anger could be terrifying. She had witnessed it quite a few times, but those had been the temper tantrums of a child, of a prideful child sick of losing. Hopefully, time had tempered it, but from that simmering in his mind, she doubted it.

However, except for his eyes and those thoughts, Brick looked painfully passive. His stance had a similar casual intensity to Butch’s own posture, but there was no overzealousness like the green ruff was exuding in waves. Said man's thoughts were also overflowing with clipped images from previous skirmishes he had had with his brother. They mixed together with Brick’s angry ones to create a soup of bloody thoughts, of battle and anger, of arguments and _red_.

Blossom hated that her memories only gave her Brick’s rowdy younger self, considering the brief flashes she could catch from Butch’s mind. They contrasted drastically with her last known memory of the general as a child. Whereas the young man in the green ruff’s memories was dreadfully deadpan and concise, the boy that she remembered was cocky and overly vicious. She wasn’t sure how she could handle her counterpart’s stoicism. Except…

Her other memories, the ones bathed in red, red blood and fog, the ones dredged up by the two Rowdyruffs’ combined thoughts, gave her such stoicism. Of a stoic face staring down at her. Or…was it just a blank face? However, it was only a glimmer, only enough for her to get a passing glance and a guess on how to deal with the general. It was different from the last time she had a memory tug on her psyche when she was with Butch. Other than the first time, most of the memories that their training dredged up involved her and her sisters’ rip-offs. With Brick, on the other hand…

The memory was so muddy that she could barely make sense of it. It crept so slowly into her mind, invading her senses that it took all she had to stay in the present. She clenched her fists, trying to keep pain from her face and energy from gathering in her hands. If Brick thought she was planning something, whatever she could do to salvage the situation would be lost.

It was so hard, though. There was a whispering in her ears and she knew it had to be from the memory, but it felt like there were people all around her. Her gaze was beginning to lose focus even as she stood there, fighting the memory.

“I’m not amused.”

Blossom couldn’t tell if Brick actually was talking or her mind was using his voice to narrate the memory. The tones felt similar, but she couldn't be sure right now.

She took a calming breath, blinking furiously. She had to fight the memory. She had to push it back, away from her mind. Right now, she didn’t need it or want it. Her focus was already waning and she could not have that when her counterpart stood _right there_.

“Aw, c’mon. You’re _never_ amused! You’re basically a fucking stick in the mud, man.” That was definitely Butch, so before must have really been Brick. The memory hadn’t completely encompassed her, then.

Yet.

Her vision swam for a moment, the edges sparking with synapses. Her equilibrium seemed to shift and it took everything in her to stay upright and not move. She may have swayed.

Those glowing eyes did not move from Butch.

“Butch, stop playing the fucking fool. Do you _really_ think I’m stupid enough _not_ to notice your activity?” Brick asked darkly. “Even you usually don’t go into the simulator _four_ times in _one_ week.”

His anger was starting to color his voice, ushering the memory only further to the front of her mind. She fought the mental wave bitterly, trying to breathe evenly through her mouth.

Fighting a memory was proving just as hard as forcing herself to remember one. It stung her mind and bruised her will, but really, she didn’t want to deal with two angry Rowdyruffs and a memory at the same time. Either was bad enough on its own.

Together?

That would be disastrous.

“I’ve been antsy, all right? You had me fucking _retreat_ when I was in _perfect_ striking distance! I could’ve caused some God damn damage to that fugly eyesore!”

“And you could have _died_ , asshole. I abhor saying it, but I _need_ your cocky ass. I can’t have you becoming collateral _before_ the big strike.”

“Oh? And when the fuck is that, bossman? In case you _forgot_ , most of the troops have been back _over_ two months. It’s fucking _boring_! We could be doing something about those damn aliens, but all you’ve had us do is sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs! So, _yeah_ , I’ve been using the simulator a whole damn lot!”

Now Butch was angry and all the red thoughts pushed harder on her mind.

Taking steadying breaths, Blossom closed her eyes to block out the thoughts. However, once she didn’t have the fuzzy images of the angry brothers, the memory surged forward with more force. The red, muddy images assaulted her mind and left her breathless and gasping. Disjointed images of anger and stoicism, of glowing eyes and blank faces. Of a golden room tinged red and— And—

 _People_?

Eyes snapping open, she stumbled a step back and blinked rapidly. She could see a golden chamber superimposed over everything, only further disorienting her. She could just see through the sparkling walls to see the reality of where she was, to let her know that she wasn't quite fully hallucinating yet. The phantom from her memory was persistent, though, forcing itself into her vision.

She almost fell into the memory, forgetting that just feet away was the man who tried to kill her as a child. She was so close to falling, except something lit up in her vision and she immediately focused it on it. Her instincts sang danger and her body thrummed in anticipation, but her mind latched onto it like a drowning man to a plank of wood. Anything to keep her sanity.

What had surprisingly helped her stay planted in the present was a somewhat fuzzy glowing object pointed in her direction. It took her a moment, but then it clicked that the red object was Brick’s fist. Once this registered, a green energy field mixed with the red light.

The red thoughts had increased and Blossom gasped from the pressure of the memory. She hated how alike she and Brick were. They were both so dang paranoid! Did he honestly think she would attack him?

Her eyes didn't move from the glowing red, though. It was a different red to the red in her memories, even if the anger mixed together with her memories. This red was _here, now_ , not whenever her memories were.

“What the hell is wrong with her?”

Confusion overcame her for a moment, but she realized he was talking about her. Which was funny since she was the only “her” in the room…right? The memory clawed furiously forward like a rabid animal and she lifted a hand to her head.

She only then noticed that she hadn’t been able to control her energy. Her hand was alight with pink light, tingling the skin of her face. That was strange. She wondered why that happened. Such a reaction had never occurred before. Even when fighting with Butch, she had never used her powers like this. Certainly, she may have used too much strength, but nothing like this. Nothing as dangerous as _this_.

Something in this memory was reacting violently to Brick and Butch’s anger, then. Something about that combination screamed danger to her. Screamed to be prepared. 

That worried her.

Butch glanced at her, she knew because she saw his glowing eyes, and he mentally asked her if she was all right. Besides a weird twist of her head, which could have been a nod, her only response was to suppress the energy flow to her hands. Her palms shook. She couldn’t discern if the curse that followed had come from Butch’s mouth or mind.

During their sparring matches, she had had only a couple big memory attacks and those times the green ruff had resorted to physical violence to snap her out of it, even if she had retaliated to the assault. If the memory consumed her, she could tell that Butch would have no qualms immediately punching her out of it. 

“She’s _fine_ , Brick. It’s…” Butch faltered, trying for an explanation that didn’t cause the pink puff any grief.

From his silence, though, Blossom figured he came up short.

Tentatively, she stood straighter, one hand still holding her head. She focused as much as she could on Brick and hoped that her speaking wouldn’t cause a kneejerk reaction. His voice still made her tense and his glowing eyes and fist weren't helping that reaction right now. All their fighting had conditioned her to prepare for battle at the mere sight of him. Her missing years hadn’t changed that. It was probably the same with him.

She hoped he would listen to reason and they wouldn’t come to blows. She was being optimistic, she was sure, but someone had to be. Right now, there was too much tension among the three of them.

“It’s…ah, my memories,” she managed, wincing at the slight waiver in her voice. She could _not_ appear weak in front of him. No matter how much she was struggling with the memory, she would not show weakness in front of this man. “The two of you…are triggering a memory. When…When a memory happens like this, it’s…hard to suppress.”

Through Butch’s shield, she could see that Brick's expression did not change. He was still clearly suspicious and his jaw was tight. Nevertheless, he did lower his arm, but she was acutely aware that his fist still glowed brightly.

That didn’t really surprise her. Considering that their similarities, the red ruff was very paranoid, as she would admit that she herself could be.

“See? She’s not about to go on a murderous rampage,” Butch remarked, though his stance was still taut and ready for an attack. “There’s nothing to be pissed at.”

“…and how do you know this, Butch?” Brick’s voice was deceptively calm and Blossom pressed harder on her temple.

The angry thoughts were searing now. Despite the risen intensity, it was almost as if they had become clearer. She could make out some formulated thoughts, mostly theories on how Butch knew about her attacks, but they were all centered on how _dare_ she seduce and trick _his_ brother and how much of a _fool_ Butch was for falling for it. How much _Brick_ was a fool for letting this go on so long, for letting her _mind-control_ his brother.

Blossom would never do that. She _couldn't_ do that. Mind-control was not one of her abilities. She had tried that once already, on Robin's insistence, but all she had managed was sending a thought to her friend. She was _not_ controlling Butch.

“H-How I know?” Butch was taken aback and the shield faltered with his uncertainty. “Ah…B-Butters told me! Y-Y’know, in one of her rants about you and banning Blossy here. S-She was sayin’ how…everyone was crucifying her or something and got into her memories!”

Brick’s eyes were completely red now and she was just waiting for him to lose his temper. He had to be close to it, if his thoughts were any indication, and Butch’s blatant lying wasn’t helping anything. That was only making him angrier if his roiling thoughts were any indication.

Blossom had been sure that the green ruff was a good liar. The number of times the man had lied to her and her sisters’ faces in the past was staggering. Of course, they had been able to tell, but that had been because he wasn’t exactly the brightest. He had had years to practice! Wouldn’t one expect to get better with practice?

That all centered on if he even continued lying, but since it was Butch, he probably lied every day about _something_. Then again, considering _whom_ he was lying to, it was obvious that no matter what lie he tried, Brick would know instantly.

She could tell that he did know, his glowing eyes burning in the gloom. The image looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t tell if it was a memory before her amnesia or after. It was probably from before, but most of the times they had fought had been during the afternoon. A vague memory passed through the more forcible one and she blinked rapidly as his glowing red eyes took on a magenta hue for a moment. She shook her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. The magenta was confusing at first, but it made sense if she correlated it to the forcible memory. The gold room was a training room and the magenta eyes meant only one person.

Berserk.

The memory was from her time with the Narcassians then, when they had been training her to be their warrior. Brick’s anger reminded her of Berserk’s whenever she had beaten her…at least, she believed so. The memory was still foggy, but the more connections she made, the less it pressed on her psyche. There were still things that weren’t connecting, things that didn't make sense, but the pain was ebbing.

Eyes focused on Brick, Blossom let herself pull other details out from her subconscious. Anything to keep the pain at bay. Butch's shield continued to glow between them, so she felt safe to do this.

The aliens had trained her with the Powerpunk Girls who had been created by…someone. It irritated her that she had no idea who it was, but that was unimportant. What was more important was what was triggering this particular memory. It had something to do with Butch and Brick, something about the way their thoughts were brewing, and it was driving her crazy. She could just touch what it reminded her of; it was right there! However, all the receding memory told her was something about Berserk and her green sister…Brute or whatever Buttercup’s rip-off was called.

Brick sighed heavily and Blossom snapped to attention. The memory stubbornly hung on, but she was able to see somewhat clearly now. The golden palace still danced at the corner of her eyes, tickling her with searing temptation. Her counterpart’s scarlet thoughts were more prudent, though, and she focused on him as the glow in his eyes died down to a natural glow. Despite the quieter glow, his stance was still taut and he rubbed his forehead in a world weary way.

“Fine,” he said flatly, dropping his hand.

He started floating towards the entrance, leaving them.

“Where are you going?” Butch asked and his brother paused, but did not turn.

“Going to make preparations for a more…secure method of keeping Pinky under control.”

The green ruff snarled and Blossom winced at the murky red images that assaulted her mind. It wasn’t as bad as a precise and clear thought, but the instinctive flashes from Butch lasted longer and clung like spiders to her mind. They were directed at his brother, who, upon hearing the growl, turned ever so slowly.

She felt her own muscles tense as she watched Brick slip into a fighting stance. Swallowing, she fought back the instinct despite the thrill of excitement that tingled across her scalp. She didn’t want to admit how much she had enjoyed her skirmishes with the red ruff. Just how _challenging_ they had been, fighting someone who was her equal, who matched her one to one. Cat and Mouse was so much fun with someone who could plan on the fly just like she could.

Now was not the time to delve into such thrills, however. Butch’s shield had dropped the moment he began snarling and his fists were glowing. He leaned forward.

She immediately knew what he was about to do.

“Bu—!”

He rocketed off before she could even finish the single syllable that was his name.

Digging her heels in the floor, she covered her face at the wind whipped up by Butch’s rapid departure. She squinted through the gusts, watching as the emerald streak splintered into a starburst on contact with his prey.

Butch was pressing down on his brother, his glowing fists held by Brick’s red ones. The green ruff let out a low growl that had the hair on her neck standing up and she blinked her eyes rapidly as the wind died. She gulped as she lowered her hands, but she kept a defensive stance. What had been a tense atmosphere was practically electric now that the two ruffs were butting heads.

From her perspective, Blossom couldn’t see either of their faces, but she just knew that they wore matching snarls. Their angry thoughts only helped that image. What she could see, though, was that there was a small crater where Brick was standing, probably due to Butch crashing into him. Her eyes flickered from their feet up.

The memory told her the situation was familiar. The image of Berserk in a similar struggle with Brute flashed over the two ruffs and the pink puff groaned, grabbing her head. That explained why the memory was resurfacing. Brick and Butch’s altercation reminded her of the stupid punks and their training. Her eyelids drooped slightly until she was watching them with hooded eyes. It didn’t seem like anything destructive was going to happen, unlike with the Punks. It just looked like they were grappling.

Of course, as soon as she thought that no damage would befall the training room, Butch slammed his forehead into Brick’s and sent the general into the wall after managing to free his fists. Sparks spat from the ruined lights around the red ruff’s knees as he pulled himself free, bringing a hand to his face.

Even from where she was standing a distance away, Blossom knew that the glowing red had encased his eyes. The thick beams of light that blasted Butch into the simulator door next to her only proved that.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Butch?” Brick growled as Blossom moved to help the green ruff. “Don’t _touch_ him!”

She stopped, leering cautiously at him as she took a step back.

The look on his face was thunderous, his eyes still burning brightly. The red thoughts were attacking her again. They tugged on her mind, pulling at memories that she felt she shouldn’t yet see. Her breaths were deep, concise, and rhythmic as she continued to stare at her counterpart. Anything to keep the memories back.

Butch sat up, jumping to his feet. For some reason, the manic grin on his face didn’t surprise her. Nevertheless, she took a step back as her sparring partner cracked his knuckles, green lightning sparking across his fists and forearms. A low chuckle emitted from his throat and he leaned his head back ever so slightly, exposing his throat completely to his brother. However, what should have been a submissive action was more a challenging one when he had that psychotic smile on his face.

“Me? I thought you’d like to spar. I mean, you _did_ come out here so _late_ at night, bossman!” He flicked his hand back and forth casually, tilting his head lazily to the side. His grin was like a snarling Cheshire Cat. “Why _else_ would you be here?”

Brick’s lip curled in disgust.

“You little fucker. Stop your bullshit. You know _exactly_ why I came out here.” His eyes flicked to Blossom and she stiffened, slightly widening her stance. He didn’t keep his eyes on her, though. “You’ve been sparring with fucking Pinky for a month now. She’s banned for a reason.”

“What? Trying to make her stir crazy and go on a rampage?” Butch laughed sardonically. “That’s more a me thing. Or Butters. Blossy?” The green ruff sneered a grin at his older brother. “Blossy’s better at dealing with her energy. I just…didn’t turn her away when she showed up to spar.”

From the look on his face, Blossom knew Brick was going to retort. It was obvious that he knew what was going on. He knew that Butch had disobeyed his orders and it infuriated him. She felt somewhat grateful for Butch’s lying, but all he was doing was drowning the fire in gasoline. Lying for her was sweet and all, but it was still stupid with the present situation.

He couldn’t _really_ think he was going to get away with it. It should be obvious Brick was prepared to beat the ever-living crap out of him. The redhead pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes darting from her counterpart to the almost vibrating ruff next to her. That was probably precisely what he hoped for, the masochistic idiot.

The standoff needed to stop before it began, but when she opened her mouth to reason with one of them, Butch shot forward, swinging a fist at Brick’s head. It left him wide open and his brother retaliated as soon as he was within arm’s length distance. The red ruff blocked the fist then slammed a least a dozen of his own punches into Butch’s abdomen. The air left Butch in a whoosh that even Blossom at her distance could hear it.

She winced appreciatively as Brick proceeded to grab his brother by the face and slam him into the ground, enlarging the crater that he had stood in before. He loomed there for a moment and then his gaze rose, meeting hers with an intensity that had her stepping backwards. While she was all for sparring with Butch, she just knew that fighting with her counterpart would be a death wish when he was so angry. This was not the child from her memories, when his anger was his downfall. Those blazing infernos that were his eyes chilled her, as much of an oxymoron as that was.

Suddenly, for a moment, it wasn’t Brick glaring her, but Berserk and the pink puff squeezed her eyes shut. She had actually managed to forget about the pressure on her mind. Now, however, the memory took advantage of her distraction, squirming its way to the forefront of her psyche with the help of her fear. Small gasps left her lips and she swallowed thickly.

One second it was Berserk stepping over a beaten Brute, the next it was Brick stalking out of a crater. Her palms felt clammy and then shockingly cold. She didn’t have to look to know that she had frosted her palms accidentally. The air was cold on her skin and chilled her mouth as she breathed, steam puffing in the corners of her eyes.

She didn’t want to fight him. She was afraid of what she might do.

Her counterpart just kept walking forward slowly.

Blossom prepared herself, lifting her fists and relaxing her stance. …except she needn’t have done that. In the next moment, Butch was grabbing Brick from the back, his arms around his brother in a sleeper hold. The general’s head jerked back and a snarl escaped his lips as he twisted, throwing himself and Butch into a couple of treadmills. The machines crashed to the floor as the weight of the two ruffs slammed into them, literally steamrolling the poor equipment as they wrestled angrily.

It looked like Brick was trying to limit the amount damage done to the room, or so Blossom thought because he didn’t seem to be using any ability other than his strength. Occasionally there was a flash of red, but it looked more as if he was slamming energy-fortified fists into his brother than actual lasers. On the other hand, Butch definitely didn’t care about damage to anything, but Brick. The green ruff, when he was pinned to the ground, let loose a volley of eyebeams that his brother twisted to dodge and ended up searing the ceiling forty feet above them.

It wasn’t exactly a quiet battle what with the crashing machines and the clanging of crushed metal, but neither of the brothers was really making much noise except for growls, or manic laughter in Butch’s case. Nevertheless, it should have attracted other attention or alarms should have been going off or _something_. The fact that there weren't any worried her until she glanced up and saw that Butch had incinerated what looked like a fire alarm. Well, that explained _that_ then.

Blossom gritted her teeth, eyes darting cautiously around the room. The ruffs had continued to roll in their wrestling match, devastating multiple treadmills and mangling a weight set that Butch had used in an attempt to brain his brother. That had been one instance that Brick had actually used his eyebeams. The remains laid smoking feet from their new skirmish. The brothers were on their feet now and it looked more like a boxing match, but Butch was ferociously attacking Brick, using elbows, knees, and lasers of all kinds in his attempt to get the red ruff to retaliate.

Brick was having none of it.

He would parry Butch’s attacks and would attack with his own, but he did little more than enough to incapacitate the brawler potentially. It wasn’t quite enough to knock the green ruff out in one go without demolishing the room, however. It did look, though, as if Butch was wearing down little by little the longer they fought.

Just like what Blossom did during their sparring.

Of course. 

Still fighting vigorously, Butch seemed less enthusiastic and more driven. She could just see the snarl on his face as he swung fist after fist at his brother, eyes lighting up with emerald energy as he fired an eyebeam after a right hook. Even his fists glowed, though with each punch, Brick would parry with one of his own at more controlled pace and strength. Something about the way they were fighting made her think that they were holding back. They probably were, but Butch was probably only holding himself back from flying.

Casting a telepathic line to the green ruff, all Blossom saw were angry flashes and worried ones that centered on her and keeping Brick from her. That flattered her a little, in a somewhat twisted way, but what caught her attention was stray thought of him being soft. It was such a strange thought to have, especially from Butch, but before she could dwell on this development, Brick had socked Butch in the jaw, sending him reeling back a few feet.

If she were going to act, it would have to be now it appeared.

Wasting no time, she blasted towards them. Enough was enough. Butch should have realized that Brick would be furious when he discovered them. _She_ should have realized that. If she hadn’t been so caught up in the thrill of fighting, maybe she wouldn’t have prolonged their meetings. There were so many ifs in her life now. So, so many. She would rectify them someday. Right now, though, she had a fight to stop.

Butch was racing towards Brick, who already had prepared for the attack, when she slammed into the ground between. She watched Butch’s eyes widen as she shoved her elbow into his sternum to stop his assault. There was a crack and pain lanced down her arm into her shoulder. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out, refusing to acknowledge any kind of weakness in front of her counterpart. She was sure she had shattered her elbow at that moment or did _something_ to it, but it was far more prudent to stop this fight.

The green ruff hissed curses as he stumbled backward, a hand over the place where her elbow had been. It didn’t look broken. If anything, it was probably bruised, considering just how sturdy he was in comparison to her. He and Buttercup had always been able to take more hits than the rest of them could. That bruise would be enough for now.

With that thought, the pink puff turned to look at her counterpart, keeping her elbow bent as she lowered it. She could feel the Chemical X in her body already healing it.

“I’m sorry,” she said and watched as Brick’s jaw tightened. “What I did…well, no. I take no repentance for disobeying your ban. What I _do_ take repentance for is having one of your officers be an accomplice of mine. I’m sure it would have been better if it wasn’t your brother, but…” She paused, frowning at her counterpart’s blank face and fiery eyes. “But I’m finding it hard to care. At this moment in time, I am your _only_ source into the Narcassians’ operations and your ban on me, while I do understand your caution, is completely and utterly oppressive. If I can’t find ways to remember, I can’t help you, Brick.”

For some reason, the words that left her mouth didn’t feel like her own. They made sense, they really did, but they felt like they were only partly hers. She really did want to help the Resistance. When she had first heard of them from Buttercup, she had been set on joining to help. She wanted to make up for all the time she had been gone, all the pain she had let happen.

However, all these restrictions that were placed on her severely cut any help she could give. If she wasn’t allowed to join or mix with influential members, there would be no way for her to escape the miasma of suspicion. If she couldn’t find ways to help her fight through the amnesia, she wouldn’t be able to remember and therefore give help. She was suddenly angry at Brick for all the things he was doing.

“And what if what you remember doesn’t help us?” Brick snarled. “What if all you were was the aliens’ pet? What if you were just some trophy that Aterex paraded around like a show pony? What then, Pinky?”

She tried not to show the panic that clenched her heart at Aterex’s name. Tried not to flinch at the use of _pet_. Her skin felt cold, but she clenched her fist to keep from rubbing her arms. That would be another show of weakness.

She hovered upwards so that they were eye to eye, so that she didn't have to look up at him and deal with his condescension. She lifted her chin and matched his glare.

“Then you’ll have notions of how to infiltrate the Narcassians’ society through social means," she snapped before biting out the words, "I _wasn’t_ his _pet_ , though. I remember fighting the punks. The Narcassians trained me. They wanted me to fight for them.”

_"What a good pet, you are."_

She hoped he thought her sharp inhale was because of her bones knitting together again. She hoped he was too focused on her face to notice the tremble that had taken her over.

“And did you?” The way he stared at her seemed simultaneously piercing and nonchalant.

She couldn’t remember.

She couldn't remember if she had fought for them or not. Outside of showcasing her powers to the upper echelon and any human supporters they had garnered, she could remember nothing. They had her train with the Powerpunks, but she couldn't remember the reason why. A different red to his glowing eyes tinged her vision, a red that whispered to her in a voice she couldn't understand.

She didn't know.

And that frightened her.

“I…” Blossom bit her lip and landed despite herself. She regretted the show of insecurity the moment the haughty look descended on the red ruff’s face. “I…do—”

“That’s what our sparring was for, Brick,” Butch cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning protectively over her. His eyes glowed almost as brightly as his brother’s did. “I figured it lets her get some steam off and she might remember something. She has, so that’s something right?”

 _“Thanks, Butch,”_ she thought at him, receiving a brief smile in response. At least he was smart enough not to show it too much.

Brick’s face was still set in stone, but the haughty edge was gone. He now looked more annoyed, eyes narrowed at the two of them. He still stood tensely, attentively, as if awaiting another attack.

Blossom wondered if her talking to him was doing that. Every time he opened his mouth, she could feel her body reacting in preparation for an attack. Was that happening with him as well? She was about to delve into his mind, which she surprisingly felt no qualms about, when he finally opened his mouth.

“…I’m not removing the ban,” he said and she felt Butch’s grip tighten on her shoulder. “I’m giving you an entourage, Pinky. You’ll go nowhere without two guards and one of us.” His gaze lifted to Butch. “And _you_ are on probation until further notice. You’ll not leave my presence unless I give you permission.”

“Really? Are you _fucking_ serious!?” Butch snarled as he stepped around Blossom.

Brick watched him impassively, already taking multiple steps away from them. Only his clenched jaw and fist belied his anger. “There will be a briefing…at least amongst us superhumans. I expect you in my office at oh-eight hundred hours, Butch.”

“You’re not lifting your fucking ban on her? Brick, fucking _look_ at me!”

Bloody eyes met forested ones. “ _Oh-eight hundred hours_ , Butch. You better fucking be there.”

And then he left, leaving a weary Blossom and furious Butch.

It was safe to say that Blossom didn’t get any sparring that night, not with Butch in a rage. She simply returned to her room and fell into a sleep riddled with glowing eyes and a voice hissing in her ear.

_"You're weak."_

* * *

His feet took him away from the training room, away from his brother and his stupidity, away from a mess that he would have to fix.

 _Away from her_.

His skin itched from the fight, itched from seeing that familiar pink energy, from witnessing her standing up to him. The thrum would not stop, would not die and his feet carried him as far away as possible before he did something terrible. His fists trembled and it took everything in him to suppress the energy wanting and begging to be released. Sparks danced around his fingertips all the same, the only outlet he would allow until he could get away.

Butch was an idiot. _He_ was an idiot. Letting her stay in here, letting her roam when they didn't know what she could do.

_Brick did know what she could do. He remembered ice searing his skin, remembered pink energy clashing with his red, a mismatched look of both arrogance and pleasure as she stared down at him._

On the logical side, he understood that if having her train brought back the memories, they should let her do it. It made sense and, well, he was curious about the aliens. Monsters though they were, Mojo had a point about them being fascinating. They had the same strength and flight that he and his brothers had, but they could change their elasticity and they had seen them phase through metal before. They could not do the same with Butch's shield, they found out, and that became the only true means of keeping the aliens at bay when they attacked.

Even the Professor had admitted a scientific interest, having already known that they weren't alone in the universe. (The broccoli alien story had been...hard to swallow.) That interest had turned into a borderline obsession ever since Pinky had returned. If they could pick her brain, if she could expand on what she had already told them, they would have a better grasp of what they were dealing with.

On the side of him that boiled and frothed, he didn't _want_ to know. He didn't want to know about her time with the aliens, what she had done, what they had done to her. They knew what the aliens had done to Earth, to its people, to _them_. They had made a mockery of the Girls, a twisted dark version with a tattered ribbon and messy hair. They manipulated scores of humans, forcing them to their will with _drugs_. They had _killed_ so many.

And what had Pinky done? If the drug controlled her too, what had she been told to do? Or was she just a pet? A pretty little _pet_ just trained so she could show off her powers. He didn't know and he hated not knowing, but he hated even more that he wanted to know.

He wanted to know what had happened to her.

He wanted to know what those aliens had done to her.

He wanted to know so he could tear them apart because that was _his_ counterpart.

 _His_ rival, _his_ enemy, _his_ to mess with and rile up and—

Brick almost laughed, almost snorted. What was he, ten? He didn't have _time_ to mess around, least of all with _Pinky_. And why would he want to anyway? What purpose would that serve? He didn't get any joy from being around her. All he felt was that heat in his stomach and chest and that tremble in his hands with a want to-to _punch_. Making her angry and frustrated had long lost its appeal when a _war_ loomed over them all.

His footsteps echoed around the empty halls, a fast, angry rhythm to his fast, angry thoughts. His fists clenched and unclenched, muscles too tight, everything thrumming with energy he had tried desperately to suppress. Butch may have little care for his surroundings when fighting, but Brick was the damn _General_. He had to be above that. He had to be _perfect_ , especially when there were plenty who thought him unfit for the position.

Buttercup's words from a month ago flashed through his mind as his eyes alighted on a familiar door. Punching into the code, he couldn't help scowling.

 _"Who the hell died and made you king of_ anything _?"_

She should fucking know who had died. Then again, she had run away before General Portman had taken over the Townsville Branch of the Resistance, hadn't she? She literally had ran away days before the general had shown up on their doorstep, a friend of their old mentor, and had taken the four superhumans under his wing. Brick, especially. He had seen potential in him that no one else would acknowledge.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He did _not_ want to deal with those memories. He didn't have the luxury of time to deal with that _and_ Butch's idiocy. And then there was _Pinky_ as well and he had way too much on his plate to let grief waylay him.

"Brick? What are you doing here?"

He looked up, passing through the doors and already working on his tie. He frowned.

"Professor Utonium, shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked instead of answering.

His feet carried him past the Professor, past whatever the older man was working on, and straight towards the simulator. He punched in his personal code and set up a recreation of an old battle on the edge of Townsville proper.

His fingers began to work on his jacket's buttons as the simulation booted up. Between buttons, he added the parameters of the fight and the computer chirped as it waited for him to enter.

"Ah… I wanted to get a head start on analyzing Emmons' blood and seeing if I could synthesize a possible cure for the drug? If I could isolate some of the alien blood… I know it's been a month, but—"

The Professor was rambling and his voice was slurring. Papers shuffled behind him, something clicking as it fell. He grumbled at that, too soft for him to hear.

Brick could just barely see the older man in the reflection of the viewing window. Most of the lab was dark and the light at his deck shone like a beacon. He was really just a silhouette against that light, a dark sweater substituting for his lab coat. His frown felt heavy as he took in the Professor leaning on his desk.

He tossed his jacket on the empty technician chair. His tie followed it.

"You should rest, Professor," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "As brilliant as you are, Emmons'...blood will be here in the morning."

"It could have decayed by then!" the scientist argued before sighing deeply. "But...I've had plenty of time to collect samples. I suppose I should...but... _Blossom_."

The young general stiffened at her name, stiffened at the memory of her before him with glowing eyes and glowing fists. Of her tilting her chin up at him with that cool, defiant face that she was so good at.

His pulse raced. Fire sang in his veins.

"You need rest," he reiterated through clenched teeth. "You're overworking yourself."

"...the same to you," the Professor answered and his tone shifted. "Brick, is everything okay?"

The simulator door hissed open before him. Brick paused and turned so that he could look over his shoulder at the Professor.

The older man had turned himself, looking worried. Even in the dim gloom, Brick could see just how tired he looked. His shoulders drooped, his hair was a mess, and it looked like the stubble he remembered from earlier had gotten worse.

His fist clenched.

Childishly, he thought, _"Her fault."_

Aloud, he instead said, "…just some stress relief. Don't worry about it, Professor."

He could feel the Professor's gaze as he stepped into the simulator, but once the doors closed behind him, he let out a long breath.

Sparks danced across his palms, sparks of energy and flames, sparks that begot crimson arcs up and down his arms. His body sang at the release, the energy free after so long repressed. His fingers twitched, his _whole_ _body_ twitched, and he took a few more steps into the simulation. The door disappeared behind him with a faint beep.

He took a breath, a breath that tasted like smoke and flame, and breathed out sparks. He glared into the devastated street.

"Simulation, start," he commanded and an alien blipped into existence before him.

A snarl ripped across its face and it barely managed a fighting stance before his fist met its countenance. It slammed into the wall behind it, gurgling, purple blood running down the sides of its mouth. Revulsion mixed with the anger in his chest.

That blood had mutated one of his soldiers. That blood was in a _drug_. A drug used to control humans. A drug used to control _his counterpart_.

His fist lit up with energy, but the alien managed to catch that strike, even as it shrieked from the searing heat. His energy always burned, after all. No matter how much he tried to lower the temperature, it was always so hot to the touch. Unlike his brothers, Bubbles, or Buttercup, whose energy just emitted a soft heat. When there was fire in his veins, it was no wonder every other part of him burned.

_Did hers freeze?_

Blasting the alien with his eyebeams, he swung forward with his other fist. It connected with its jaw in a sickening crunch. Blood splattered the wall next to it, a spray of purple from its mangled jaws. Slowly, it slid down the bricks and he merely stared as it crumpled at his feet. He took a step backwards with a sneer.

He wasn't even panting.

His skin still felt too tight.

Energy continued to arc up and down his arms.

_He could still see her glowing eyes._

"Computer, up level five stages," he growled.

The alien disappeared.

Something moved behind him.

He turned and caught the punch to his chest. Red energy sparked around the inky black hand, eliciting a shriek. Another fist swung in his peripheral, this time connecting. Moving his head with the blow, he managed to catch himself from falling, but brought the first alien with him. Snarling, he squeezed its fist, enjoying its wail too much, before he released it and shot into the air.

It barely stung, but he rubbed his jaw all the same. These were the things that had taken Pinky? Pathetic. Absolutely _pathetic_. What had happened? How could she let these _things_ take her? She wasn't that weak! Even at twelve years, she couldn't be that weak!

The two aliens stared up at him before both jumped into the air after him. The one to the right summoned a psionic weapon similar to Boomer's, a bat no doubt because of recorded training sessions from Boomer, while the left one merely clenched its fists as they soared upwards. They attacked as one, but he shot higher into the air, firing back with beams from his fists. Their cries followed him as he spun around them.

The one with the bat tried to retaliate, snaking between the beams as much as it could. The aliens had proven to be slower than he, his brothers, and the Girls. At least the common foot soldiers had proven to be slower, the memory of a pair of aliens decked in gold sinuously moving around him and Butch with ease. Moving behind their guard far too easily. Moving to strike, _to kill_ , General Portman.

He snarled.

Gold was a status symbol among the aliens as much as it was among humans. No one had seen Aterex in a long time, but he was sure the damn alien was decked out in the gaudy material. The so-called Master of the World never deigned to leave his cancer of a citadel. If he had, this damn war would have ended years ago. Brick would have personally seen to that.

Sucking in a breath, he let loose a wave of flames as a thought came unbidden to him.

_Had they decked Pinky out in gold? Had she been paraded around like a poodle, complete with gold collar?_

His flames grew hotter, the screams of the aliens louder, and his blood just continued to boil. Only silence stopped him, his breath ragged, his throat raw from the sheer heat of his fire. Beneath him lay the charred remains of the aliens, smoke wafting from their bodies. It smelled like some kind of cooked seafood, a salty, rotten smell that made his nose wrinkle. He gritted his teeth to keep the bile down.

His hands still twitched.

He wasn't quite panting yet.

"Computer, up five more levels."

The remains disappeared. Three more aliens took their place.

He slammed into them with the force of a small meteor.

One alien hadn't been lucky, crumpling under his assault like a papier-mâché doll. They really needed to calibrate the computer's simulations. The aliens weren't _that_ weak, even the average foot soldier could handle at least a punch from Butch with some difficulty. These were folding way too easily.

Gold flashed in his peripheral.

The alien slammed into him like a steamroller. Its hands wrapped around his neck, metal clinking with each movement from the decorative golden necklace around its own neck. Each tiny piece of metal reflected the crimson of his eyes, the crimson of his heat vision striking it straight between its bulbous eyes. It shrieked, its black maw open before him, and he breathed a wave of flames down its throat before even breaking its hold.

The alien choked and convulsed, pushing him away and clawing at its throat. Sparks and smoke leaked from its mouth. Blood followed afterwards, that foul, foul blood splattering on the ground at its feet. Surprisingly, it didn't fall, didn't die, even as it glared at him with unfocused, milky eyes.

His glowing fist hit it right between them, right over the oozing burn. The energy sparked over it, forming a beam that launched the alien backwards. It hit the side of a building like some kind of ugly starfish, skull dented, but sadly intact. If it hadn't been so durable, that beam might have gone right through.

He wasn't surprised that he was disappointed.

Brick shook out his hand and snarled again. This wasn't doing _anything_. They really needed to calibrate the simulations, particularly around the aliens. This was _nothing_. He could still feel his blood boiling, his skin itching despite using so much energy already, and this _would not do_.

His mind unhelpfully summoned pink energy, pink energy shielded by forest green. He saw a defiant face and then a fearful one, one that moved backwards as he moved forwards. He saw shaking fists and a body as tense as his, but with none of the deadly precision. None of the struggling to keep herself at bay, to keep the itch from consuming her.

No, there had been a struggle there, a struggle of something he didn't understand. A memory trying to take her over, a memory or so Butch claimed.

It had to be a trick, a trick to lure his brother into a false sense of security. Pinky? Suffering from memories that overcame her? She had too much control for that. She was too perfect for that. She _couldn't_ be broken like that, like how Buttercup claimed she was, like how Butch protecting her said she was. That's not… That's not _who she was_.

_She wasn't weak._

_She couldn't be broken._

_"You don’t fucking know how it feels, watching someone who was so strong struggle just to remember what the fuck happened to her!"_

His breath felt shallow. His palms burned.

She, of all people, wasn't _allowed_ to break. She couldn't. She was a God damned _beacon_! A beacon of hope, trust, and light and all those bullshit things! Of all the people this wretched fucking war ruined, she wasn't supposed to be part of that number.

She was supposed to be…

Flames billowed down at the final alien, at the alien that had tried to attack him in his distracted state. It wouldn't work. He had trained too much, far too much to allow something as trivial as that to blindside him. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, the flames stopped and yet another charred remain fell to the ground.

It wasn't enough.

He didn't know _why_ he was so angry. Pinky had always raised his ire, had always made him grind his teeth, and, sure, they had been particularly competitive, but this? This pure _rage_? He hadn't felt something like this in a while. Not since…

He landed among the remains and took a breath. Lifting his head, he called, "Computer, change parameters. Opponent: BRSK005."

The aliens disappeared.

A figure took their place.

A low growl emitted from his throat before the simulation had even completely formed.

She flipped long red hair over her shoulder, messy and nothing like the silky tresses of Pinky. It was darker too, somewhere between their colors, closer to his almost auburn hair than Pinky's copper. The eyes were wrong too, cruel and wicked and a dark magenta. She smirked at him with a twitch of her head and fluttered her fingers.

"Hiya, Red," she cooed and then placed her hand over her heart. "Miss me?"

Brick felt like his whole body had lit up. His veins screamed with fire, with anger, with _rage_. His twitching fingers curled into fists so tight they hurt. A trembling that more befit Butch took over him. He didn't deign her a response.

They had entirely based her program off the interactions they had had with her on missions, a combination of eyewitness accounts and whatever video the communications officer had managed to grab. She had proven to be as prone to condescending comments as he once had. Her own haughty and sneering look reminded him too much of a younger him. If seeing Pinky sneaking around with Butch had angered him, Berserk truly _enraged_ him.

Because she was entirely _wrong_.

He lifted glowing fists.

Berserk sneered. "Oh, big bad general doesn't wanna talk, huh? Fine!"

She slammed her foot down.

He jumped into the air as a pillar of earth followed. She darted after him, a streak of magenta behind her, and he met her punch with his own glowing hand. He caught the other punch too and they struggled, struggled like how he and Butch had only minutes ago. Grappling in the air was different, though, a combination of focusing on flying and the rip-off pressing her full weight into him.

She twisted abruptly, swinging her leg widely and striking him in the hip. Their flight skewed and they went tumbling through the air before he could try to right himself. Pain lanced up and down his side and he snarled, finally breaking their grapple and darting backwards. He retaliated with laser vision, which she blocked with her own. They were at a stalemate for only a moment, until the beams exploded where they met and blasted them both backwards.

Brick caught himself before he hit the building behind him, stopping just shy of the concrete. He almost smiled at the reaction, remembering a similar situation years ago, but the pink rocketing towards him was too dark. Not a soft rosy shade, but vibrant and jarring, completely different to the image in his mind. His would-be smile fell as his anger flared.

He dropped and she slammed into the side of the building, not even checking her speed. She snarled down at him, shaking off debris. He smirked and took off. Her shriek followed, as did a rain of energy beams, which he navigated through with some difficulty. She was particularly precise with her blasts, some even nicking his arms and legs as he swerved.

The chase didn't last long, because it _never_ lasted long. Berserk was not a patient person, though he had only truly fought her a couple of times. The simulation was no different. She shrieked again and pillars of stone shot up in front of him, making him zigzag to avoid slamming into them. She didn't _do_ Cat and Mouse. She didn't have the patience for it.

_Not like Pinky did._

How droll.

Well, Brick didn't like playing the mouse anyway, much preferring the cat in that game. He spun and fired his own energy beams, startling his pursuer and forcing her to take cover behind her own pillars. They did a morbid dance between the stone, him firing energy and her shooting rocks at him. Their speed was matched, but his senses were stronger. She had a certain ashy kind of smell, much different than—

He snarled and fired a larger beam than before at the last place he spotted the punk. His mind was crossing into dangerous territory. He needed to focus.

At least the rip-off was putting up more of a fight than the aliens had.

Dodging around another pillar, he found the space before him empty. He didn't let that fool him. Berserk was never the type to leave her prey alone for long. He cautiously floated around it, fists still alight as his eyes darted around.

She slammed into his side, blindsiding him, and they plummeted to the ground. A boom announced their fall and they grappled again, she clawing for his eyes and he trying to keep her from doing so. A vicious snarl screwed up her face, a face too similar to another redhead, and the look was just wrong. Wrong _,_ wrong _, wrong_!

He snarled back at her. The flames in his chest expanded. Somehow, despite her being much smaller than he is, he managed to get his leg between them and kicked her away, following it up with a breath of fire. She screamed and shot above the assault, the end of her ponytail smoking.

"You piece of shit!" she screamed. "Look at my _hair_!"

His only response was to breathe more fire at her, forcing her dodge in a wide arc. He spun the flames around himself, creating a tornado of fire, crackling and popping and burning around him. Her angry shouts sounded through the heat.

Finally, he was panting. Finally, his body was beginning to ache. The tension was still high, he still felt like he could punch through a building, but he could maybe stand in Pinky's presence now. He could almost say he didn't want to deck his brother, but Butch just had a special way about him that just made most people want to cause him bodily harm.

Sharp stone spires pierced his firestorm. Cursing, he shot away from them and let his flames die.

Berserk met him with a glowing fist, punching him right in the face. This time he didn't manage to roll with it and slammed right back into those spires. They crumbled around him, concrete, earth, and stone burying him. This time it actually _hurt_.

Though muffled, he could hear her triumphant laughter.

He saw red.

The stone melted. He didn't remember the last time his flames burnt so hot, so hot that they turned white, that they melted pure stone. They wrapped around him as he rocketed right into Berserk's stomach, bringing her down to the ground. Her shriek cut off as they hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud. She was flailing, striking him, but he couldn't really feel it through his sheer heat.

His hands found her throat.

Her face turned red, then purple. She gasped.

Magenta energy flickered.

Flickered to pink in his eyes.

Cold flooded through him and he lurched away from her, flames collapsing to ash around him. He struggled to his feet and backed away, staring at—

At Berserk. It was Berserk. The simulation was Berserk. Even if her hair looked lighter for a moment, her eyes lighter.

The eyes that glared up at him were dark. Were magenta.

His breath shuddered and he called, "Computer, end simulation."

Townsville disappeared. Berserk continued to glare as she disappeared, but her glowing eyes were embedded in his mind. He rubbed his face.

No, the eyes he saw weren't magenta.

He leaned forward, face still in his palms, body aching and tired. A spark flared in his chest, but he couldn't decipher it anymore. Rage? Hate? Fear? It thrummed all the same, thrummed at the memory of pink eyes glowing up at him.

He breathed out through his nose. A groan rocked his chest as he sunk down to his knees. His fingers shook.

He was so tired.

This is not what he needed.

* * *

When Buttercup had woken up that morning, the sight of two sleep bleary guards on either side of Blossom’s door surprisingly didn’t affect her. She merely stared for a moment with narrowed eyes, watching them start to squirm self-consciously as she made her eyes glow for emphasis.

It was amusing how intimidated by her they were. She wasn’t about to actually attack them. She was curious about why they were hovering around her sister’s door, but considering the paranoid nature of Brick, she figured it was some new measure he had decided to enforce. It pissed her off, but what could she do? She hated to admit that there _wasn’t_ anything for her to do about it. Whatever the red ruff did, she had to accept. She did it for Blossom because she had asked to listen to his orders, even if they were unfair. Didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Her day then officially started with Bubbles thumping her on the head before dragging her out of the apartment without so much as a greeting. Safe to say, Buttercup started the day with a foul mood and empty stomach.

Two hours later, the only difference was her full stomach. She scowled from her position next to a somewhat roughed up Butch and behind a worried Professor, eyes narrowed at her least favorite Rowdyruff.

They were in a new meeting room this time, different from the last time. Admittedly, it didn't even look like a conference room, but rather an office with dark paneled walls and a large screen behind the heavy looking desk. She briefly wondered where they had stolen it from, what military or government office, because it certainly would have required either a lift or superhuman strength. Two chairs sat before it, one occupied by the Professor, the other filled by an unknown man, another officer she supposed. Butch was leaning against the wall to her right with Boomer further down to his right. Bubbles left her to her own devices and moved to Brick's right. 

No one spoke for a minute. Eventually, Buttercup cleared her throat because they did not have all day to stare at each other.

Something about the way Brick was purposely keeping his eyes focused on his papers was pissing her off. His shoulders weren’t so much hunched as they were stiff, his knuckles almost white as he gripped one fist with the other. The almost brooding atmosphere painted a rather attractive picture, but Buttercup couldn’t find herself appreciating it at all. The way her counterpart was also sending his brother dirty looks only fueled her decision to watch him with disdain.

Of their little meeting, it appeared that it was only the Professor, her and her fellow superhumans, and the man whom she figured was another sergeant or lieutenant or something. She didn’t know his name; only that he dealt with most of the recruits and soldiers. Therefore, he was important. Probably. Buttercup honestly didn’t care.

There was an inkling under her skin that told her the meeting was, yet again, about Blossom and she was ready to raise massive hell if Brick had decided to do _anything_ to her. She could practically feel her hackles raising the longer they sat there in silence. That was just another thing to piss her off; Brick was just sitting there, completely ignoring them. Damn, stupid Rowdyruff!

“All right! Why the fuck are we here, Brick? It’s _something_ important if you even included _me_ ,” she finally snarled, crossing her arms.

Slowly, Brick raised his eyes from his papers. At that moment, she finally noticed that there were bruises along his jaw and that his knuckles, with the skin drawn tight, actually looked a little ripped up. It looked like he had been in a fight.

She tried to keep the grin from showing. Had Blossom finally stopped taking his shit? That would almost be too good to be true. On the other hand…if _Brick_ had finally let his instincts take over… The green puff let her scowl regrow with more fervor. If Brick had touched a hair on her sister’s head, she was going to pummel him. Screw whatever anyone would say.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back. He waved lazily. “Well, I’m sure you already figured it has something to do with Pinky.”

She sneered and almost missed the mirrored expression on Butch’s face. That surprised her. Lifting her eyebrows, she actually let the anger go for a moment and let her curiosity rise. Whatever had happened had made _Butch_ pissy and that in of itself was interesting.

The green ruff let practically nothing affect him. He was like Teflon. Everything rolled off his stupid hide. He was always cracking jokes at inopportune times. Plus, he seemed like his brother’s lapdog, so seeing him angry at Brick fueled her curiosity.

“All right. I’ll bite. What pissed you off _now_?” She tilted her head towards him.

She saw the Professor lean forward in her peripheral, wringing his hands. “Blossom didn’t do anything, did she? She wouldn’t let herself hurt anyone, Brick! You should know that of all people!”

There was panic and paternal worry in his voice and she felt her chest contract. The Professor had only just gotten all his daughters back. If he was forced to let Blossom go or watch her be executed, she doubted her father would be able to handle it. She felt a frown form on her face.

Brick better answer soon or she was going to stop playing Miss Everything Nice. Spice had always been more her speed, anyway. She would make sure he remembered that.

“For the past month, Pinky has been entering the training simulator in the fitness facility after hours and with the help of an officer passcode,” the red ruff explained wearily. He actually rubbed his forehead, the insufferable prick. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Said officer was Butch, it seems. With this cur—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!” Buttercup stood straight and turned to stare at her counterpart in shock. “ _You’ve_ been training with Blossom for a _month_ and _didn’t fucking tell me_?”

Butch snorted, rolling his eyes as he gave her a look. “Blossy wasn’t exactly honest with ya either, Butterbabe.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” she growled, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the nickname. “But you’ve been secretly training with Blossom? For a month?”

“What are you, a parrot? YES, Butters. I have been training with Blossy,” he snapped, leaning back huffily and crossing his arms. He glared at Brick. “Except that’s going to change now, seeing as how _paranoid_ some _asshat_ is.”

Following his glower, she could see a rather disdainful look on Brick’s face before it smoothed out. He rubbed the bruise on his jaw as he scrutinized them. She had a feeling that injury had come from Butch. Call it a gut feeling, but she was beginning to believe that there had been a fight over this whole ordeal. Butch’s own injuries only furthered that feeling, the bruises along his own jaw and over his arms.

She only just realized that Butch wasn't even wearing his uniform, just a standard issue gray shirt, his fatigue pants, and boots.

“All right, Brick. I’m gonna guess you caught them or something. So what’re you gonna do _now_?” she asked, unconsciously matching Butch’s posture.

She lifted her head slightly, though, to look down her nose at the red ruff. She was rewarded with a muscle twitch for the gesture. A smirk wormed its way onto her face.

That was nice. Did her not giving a damn strike a nerve? Poor baby.

“Obviously we must put a guard on her so that this behavior can no longer happen.” Brick dropped her gaze as he collected his papers, flicking through them. “That’s why you are here, Lieutenant Kenny. As the head of personnel, I will need you to create shifts to watch Pinky. Also, I will need a superhuman to be present with every shift.”

Bubbles perked up at that and Buttercup couldn’t stop her eyebrows from joining her hairline. The blonde woman hadn’t shown any interest in Blossom during the whole month Buttercup had been training under her. In comparison to the usual flat disdain she had seen, the alert and almost excited expression she sported seemed almost weird.

However, Buttercup had to admit, Bubbles hadn’t been as cold as she had been the last few weeks. It was as if something had changed since Emmons’ death. Certainly, it had only been a day, but she hadn't trained her as hard yesterday after they had left the lab. Maybe it had something to do with the discovery of the blood drug. If learning that Blossom had been _drugged_ and had no control led to Bubbles trusting her more, Buttercup would take it. That was all she cared about. Bubbles beginning to trust their sister again.

Bubbles’ reaction to his need for a superhuman hadn’t gone unnoticed by Brick. His eyes darted towards her for a moment before they returned to his papers. However, his eyebrows were furrowed as he perused them. It was as if he was upset that she wanted that duty. The green puff found that interesting.

“Bubbles can do that, can’t she?” Everyone looked at her and Buttercup frowned at the attention. “What? I’ve pretty much have had basic training and combat skills down since I was fourteen. This is all stupidly redundant to me. So let Bubbles’ handle Blossom.”

“…no, there are things you have yet to learn, Buttercup.” Brick’s voice was almost icy in its coldness. He really seemed to dislike the idea of Bubbles doing anything for Blossom. She narrowed her eyes. “Bubbles, you will continue Buttercup’s training. Boomer, as the only superhuman with a rank not on probation, you will monitor Pinky with the two soldiers. Everywhere she goes, you go. She is not allowed outside of her room without you. Butch, as I said, you are on probation. You don’t leave my side unless I give you permission. The same prohibitions are in place for Pinky. I will give her leeway to use the simulator in the Professor’s lab, but only before curfew and when the Professor is present. Boomer, you can pass that on to her.”

“Yes, sir.” Boomer saluted, but he glanced worriedly at Bubbles.

The blue puff looked a little deflated, almost defeated, but her jaw was set stubbornly. The expression was familiar to Buttercup. Years might have past, but she still knew when Bubbles was going to try to refute something. The lieutenant stood straighter and tilted herself forward a little bit, preparing to argue for the job.

However, the way Brick set his papers down decisively left no room for argument. The way in which his eyes faintly glowed when he looked at them told them he would accept none.

The green puff almost wanted to start one just on principle, but the Professor, knowing her since he had raised her, simply shook his head at her. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and then stood from her lean.

“Is that all then?” she snapped. She looked impassively down at Brick. “Your paranoia is fucking ridiculous and I still stand by my belief of you being spiteful, but I’ll play by your rules, Bricky boy. If only for Blossom’s benefit. Otherwise, I would’ve pounded your fucking ass by now.”

“Always a pleasure, Buttercup,” Brick retorted, folding his hands. “You’re dismissed. Butch, wait for me outside.”

Said man scoffed, but complied, following the Professor and Lieutenant Kenny out. Boomer paused at the door after the green ruff had left, waiting for one of the puffs to move.

Both sisters were still staring at Brick, but after a brief shared look, Buttercup nodded her head and headed towards the door. She grabbed Boomer’s shoulder and tugged him along, ignoring his indignant complaint. However, the green puff didn’t miss the pained look he threw over his shoulder at the closing door behind them.

Once in the hallway, Buttercup released the blue ruff and then leaned against the wall next to Butch, who was experimenting with his multiple injuries. He poked a large bruise on his elbow, murmuring “ow” softly as he did so with a weird spawn of a grimace and smile.

Rolling her eyes at the juvenility of his actions, she raised her eyebrows at Boomer, who hadn’t immediately ran off to do his new duty. Instead, he was still staring at the meeting room’s door. His pupils looked dilated and Buttercup wondered if he was using his x-ray vision to see through the walls.

She really wondered how her sister didn’t see it. The boy had his feelings practically painted across his face whenever it came to her. He was more obvious than a road flare.

“I really doubt Bubbles and General Stick-Up-His-Ass are doing the dirty, Boomer,” she remarked, surprising the ruff. She smirked at his flushed face. “I might have teased her about it, but I really don’t think Bubbles has those kinds of feelings for Brick.”

“…you don’t see the way she looks at him, though,” Boomer muttered dejectedly.

“Are we _really_ having this fucking conversation? Here? Right fucking _now_?” Butch spoke up, lifting his head from his bruise. “I think Bubs had a crush back when we were, like, fucking _fifteen_ , but she kinda fucking grew out of it, Boom. I mean, really. Bossman’s got _way_ too much fucking stress and baggage to fucking deal with.”

“ _Besides_ ,” Buttercup cut in, leering at her counterpart, “Bubbles looked at _Blossom_ the same way. It’s not love or some shit like that, Boomer. It’s compassion. As much of an ice bitch as she is, Bubbles still is stupidly compassionate. Trust me.” Her voice went quiet. “I can tell.”

* * *

Bubbles sighed softly as Buttercup took Boomer out of the room. She was beginning to wonder if she acted too cold around her counterpart. The behavior had been a response to Buttercup leaving and her not wanting to be seen as a crybaby around the Rowdyruffs because of that. From the anger that often flooded her link with Buttercup, she had a feeling that she might be indeed acting too cold.

It was to protect herself, she had reasoned as a child. She hadn’t wanted to let herself be swayed by her emotions as she usually had. She didn't have Blossom anymore to help her focus that so she let herself channel her “hardcore” side and wore it like a suit of armor. The only time she let it down was around the Professor and, ironically, Brick.

Speaking of whom, said man was rubbing his face, looking more ragged than usual. This business with Blossom was really weighing heavily on his mind. It wasn’t unfamiliar to see the redhead so stressed, but Bubbles just knew that Brick was bottling up the energy she just knew was building from being around her sister. She remembered how much energy she unconsciously gathered when the Boys had first joined. It was like every other day she had had to use her energy in some way.

The blue puff paused at the thought, eyes slightly widening in realization. Brick had given her the numbers on Butch’s frequent simulator use the last month, but she had just thought that it was Butch being Butch. However, now that she knew that he was sparring with Blossom, the lieutenant suddenly connected the dots. She wondered if Brick also had, or if he was too stubborn to see. Knowing him, he probably was ignoring facts and just preserving as much of his state of mind as he could.

Bubbles huffed softly. _Men_.

“Brick,” she murmured, gently touching his shoulder. He jumped, but other than slightly wide eyes, his face remained a controlled neutral. “You don’t have to protect me from my own sister.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, returning his gaze to his papers. “I just don’t want her mind-controlling you.”

The blue puff raised her eyebrows before sitting down next to him and putting her arms on the table as she leaned forward. “Is that what you think she did to Butch? Mind-controlled him? Brick, you and I both know Blossom wouldn’t do that.”

The red ruff snorted derisively. Bubbles felt insulted by the action.

The general spoke as she was about to call him out on it, “We don’t know her anymore, lieutenant. It’s been eight years for you and ten years for me. We can’t know what she would and wouldn’t do now.”

“That’s you making excuses, Brick Jojo,” she snapped, glaring at him. He looked ready to argue, but she cut him off. “I’ve been living with you for eight years. I’ve been working with you just as long and have learned your habits. This is you pushing away anything to do with Blossom because you’re afraid it’s going to affect you somehow.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, but he no longer was looking at her. Instead, he was glaring at the papers in his hands, his eyes faintly glowing.

Gently, she placed her hand on top of his clenched one. “Brick. Even if the aliens took Blossom, she wouldn’t let herself harm innocents. Even with the blood drug, Blossom would _not_ bring harm unless the drug was that strong. The only reason why you’re doing this is because you still feel hatred towards her. I can tell, Brick. You’re basically my brother.”

He didn’t immediately respond to her, but really, she didn’t expect him to. She knew from experience that the things Brick didn’t outright confront were the ones that he didn’t know how to deal with. The whole Blossom thing was definitely in that category. If she was being frank, even she herself didn’t know how to deal with her older sister either.

Part of her just wanted to stay behind her cold walls in the chance that Blossom actually did betray them. Another part just wanted to curl up in Blossom’s arms and just cry. Cry for them and their lost innocence, for Townsville, for everyone who had to fight, and for everyone who had died. It felt a century since she actually had let herself cry. The last time had been the Seattle Massacre, almost a year ago.

And she couldn’t let herself cry in front of the Boys, no matter how much they were like family now. She couldn’t let anyone see her soft side. This was war and they were smack dab in the middle of it.

“I shouldn’t still hate her.”

For a moment, Bubbles was confused, having been lost in her thoughts, before realizing Brick was responding to her previous statement. He still had his gaze focused on his papers, but instead of looking almost angry, he instead looked so very tired. He really was taking too much on his shoulders.

She squeezed his hand, willing him to release his grip on the papers. He didn’t.

“Brick…” she murmured.

She didn’t want to make any unnecessary comments. If she let him, he would tell her by himself.

“I just…I always hated you three, but I always hated Pinky so much more,” he muttered, mouth twisting. Talking about feelings was never his nor his brothers’ strengths, but she didn’t have telepathy like Blossom. He would have to tell her himself. Pulling teeth as it was. “And her arrival is so… _inopportune_. I just need the responses from the other bases to coordinate our forces and then we can strike. Our Intel and experience tells us that the aliens never fight in winter, so what would be a better time to attack? But suddenly Pinky is here and…I just have too much damn stress handling the planning for the Big Strike. I don’t need Buttercup’s fucking bitching about being unfair to Pinky to deal with as well!

“And what the hell is with that? Why is your sister so willing to accept that Pinky isn’t a spy? She’s too fucking trusting for her own good, the damn… I don’t understand. I don’t understand why so many people are willing to accept her at face value. They don’t know what she could be hiding. We don’t know. All we fucking know is she was controlled by drugs and _trained_. The aliens _trained_ her. But do we know for what? No! Of course not. Pinky just conveniently _doesn’t remember_!”

It had been a long while since she had seen any emotion of great magnitude on his face. He was positively livid, eyes glowing as he glared. He really wasn’t handling this as well as he had appeared to be.

She almost smiled. Getting him to rant like this was good. It let at least some stress off.

“But both Buttercup and Butch witnessed her remembering something, right?” she said, easing the papers from the general’s grip.

“Acting!” he snapped, flexing his fingers. “It’s all acting.”

“But Blossom is a horrible liar.” She shouldn’t be having so much fun poking holes into his defense.

“She’s had years to practice, hadn’t she?” he grumbled, sitting back in his chair and with a scowl. He rubbed his face. “…God fucking dammit, you’re right. She _was_ a horrible liar.”

This time, she allowed herself a small giggle. “Exactly, Brick. Unless _somehow_ , Blossom is still under the influences of the blood drug _after_ two months, then I doubt she’s lying.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“A little, yes,” the blue puff responded, but her smile was sympathetic. “Brick, you can’t keep all this bottled up.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning his head back. “I just…hate her so much. I’m…” His jaw tightened and the next thing he uttered was so soft, she had to lean forward to hear. “I’m afraid that I’ll actually kill her.”

For some morbid reason, the confession neither shocked her nor made her panic. She had had a feeling that his reasons for staying as far away from Blossom had to do with his hate. For Brick to say that he was afraid, though, came somewhat as a shock. He wasn't one to show fear, to admit that he ever felt it. He didn't have the luxury of fear.

However, it was progress for the headstrong general to even admit that. His fear wasn’t unfounded, either. Bubbles could still remember the vicious amount of bruises, breaks, and burns that Blossom would come home with after a tangle with the red-eyed man. The two of them had always had a vicious rivalry, Blossom once going so far as to say that Brick and his brothers were more dangerous than _Mojo_. Then again, that had been after a particularly bad battle between the two, but Bubbles could never forget the cut that wouldn't stop bleeding on her sister's forehead.

However, they would get nowhere if they stayed at this point. It was a step for him to admit his hate and his fear, but more needed to be made. If they were ever going to get the two of them to even stand being in the same _room_ , they had to get further than this. She and Boomer could stay in a room now. So could Buttercup and Butch. She was positive that Blossom and Brick could too.

Smiling faintly, she removed her hand from his and touched his cheek, drawing his attention to her. 

“Then, to make sure that doesn’t happen, you have to acquaint yourself to her, right?” she instructed, ignoring the expression on his face that made him look like he had swallowed a bitter pill. “Don’t worry. We won’t throw you together cold turkey like what happened with me and Boomer. We’ll start out small. Say her name, Brick.”

“…what?” He frowned, looking almost confused.

“Her name. Say Blossom.” She had been with him for most of his talks about Blossom and not once had he ever said her name. Not. Once.

However, when Brick opened his mouth, looking almost mutinous, an urgent knock sounded from the meeting room door before it opened without so much as an invitation. Both turned to it in surprise as Boomer strode inside quickly, followed by their green siblings. Something flashed across her counterpart’s face when he saw her hand on his brother’s cheek, but whatever it was passed and he looked past her to his brother.

Now that she looked, the blond man actually looked a little pale and immediately she felt apprehensive.

“Boomer?” Brick sat straight and Bubbles dropped her hand, turning all her attention to the blue ruff. “What’s wrong?”

Boomer took a breath, squaring his shoulders. “I just received a report from the Professor. He received a message from Lieutenant Believe. Apparently Mojo will be returning soon.”

Bubbles’ eyes widened. The chimp had left about a year ago to do a circuit of the Resistance bases in North America, shortly after the Seattle Massacre actually. They had all thought he would be away for the Big Strike, probably holing up with their sister base in New York. Something big must have happened for him to return.

She swallowed thickly. She hoped that something wasn’t Blossom.

Bubbles licked her lips and frowned. “Did he give an estimate on when he would return?”

Boomer met her eyes, but he wasn’t the one who responded.

“Two weeks,” Buttercup responded grimly from the doorway.

She looked displeased, which didn’t surprise Bubbles. Her sister had never quite liked the fact they were working with ex-cons. However, she was sure there was more to her displeasure.

And it all centered on Blossom.


	11. Chapter 10: City of Orphans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 10! It is shorter than last chapter, but last chapter was special lol
> 
> Also, after this chapter, I will not be doing weekly updates as this makes us caught up to my buffer. (Yes, I am continuing to do that.) So updates will be slower now, but I will try to continue to keep up the habit of posting on Saturdays so there's a semblance of order. 
> 
> Please Enjoy!

The air was chill, the warmth of summer dissipating daily from the derelict city. The days themselves were growing shorter the colder it became. Most plants that once were green were well on their way to death, leaves shriveled and brown. The piles of detritus littered the already dirty streets, where wind rustled through the brown plants. None of that mattered, however, to the ink black king. The once grand city of Townsville meant nothing to him. Its skyscrapers were nothing more than scrap metal and convenient stone. Everything that Aterex needed was within the insulated and black walls of his city. 

Well, almost everything.

The great king wouldn’t fool himself into believing that the loss of Blossom wasn’t devastating. The superhuman girl served a great purpose, both as a figurehead for those sheep of humans and as a warrior. However, with her gone, he could only guess that the vermin on the edges of Townsville had gotten their paws on her. He wasn’t oblivious to those rebellious humans. On the contrary, the countless battles over the years were particularly hard to ignore. If not for them, he would have conquered this gods’ forsaken planet long ago.

The king rubbed his chin, tilting his head as he stared out at the ruins. No, the planet wasn’t truly forsaken. Its changing seasons were aggravating, but that was truly the only thing horrible about the planet. Earth had a wonderful wealth of resources and Aterex couldn’t ignore how wonderfully humid and hot it could become. When that warmth disappeared, though, their bases were perfect hideaways from Earth’s chill.

The chill only reminded him of what he had lost. 

Fist clenching, Aterex snarled. It was that traitor's fault. He had been a fool to let such a cretin handle his pet, but his advisor had told him that the populace often better liked a merciful leader. What ridiculous advice. He should have left them to rot on Narcassia when they fled from the Great Drought, mercy be damned. Mercy hadn't helped him conquer this world.

His eyes narrowed. He should have killed the cretin on the spot. It was bad enough that his prize had been branded wrongly, but that traitor had let her free, no doubt to those vermin who scuttled around the edges of this city.

The door behind Aterex opened and the king sighed, cold eyes glancing at the reflection in the window. Wild red hair pulled back with a ragged red ribbon and faintly glowing magenta eyes greeted his gaze. If he was willing, he could almost fool himself that it was Blossom. Almost, but not quite. The girl in the reflection lacked his prize’s grace and sophistication. The reflected girl was more of a feral mutt to Blossom’s pedigree collie. Feral dogs, though, had their uses.

Turning, the great king regarded Berserk. “What business brings you into my presence, warrior?”

She sauntered forward a few steps, stopping and genuflecting almost half a room away. “The military and political leaders have begun preparing for winter, my king.”

“Wonderful. That still does not explain _why_ you had to bring this news to me,” Aterex spoke blandly, tilting his expressionless face to peer at the feral dog.

Berserk’s mouth twisted before forming that sardonic smirk that always adorned her face. It was an expression that annoyed him to no end. “I thought that a visage of your prize would ease your anger. After all, there’s no doubt those vermin have her.”

The king gazed down at her before twisting away and returning to his vigil out the window. “Gazing upon your countenance only increases my ire, warrior. You hardly bring about a calm my pet did.”

From her scowl in the reflection, the great king knew that hit a chord, but he didn’t care. Berserk was created solely to fight those rebellious humans. She was simply a weapon in a humanoid shell. Unlike his prize, though he did not know the true meaning behind her creation. To him, though, Blossom was a trophy and beacon to those confused human scum that had scuttled to his feet, begging for mercy.

The great king let his lips form a smirk. Under the influence of the blood drug, Blossom had been the figurehead to ease the fear of the humans. Of course, her influence had not reached the rebels, but he had never really brought her to them. He couldn't trust that her sisters wouldn't try to take her back, so her missions had never been close to his throne and always had his generals or the Powerpunks with her.

She had served her purpose well, though. Those humans in his city didn't need to know how she remained so docile or why she remained quiet during his speeches. They were compliant and that was all that mattered. Now, however…

With Blossom gone, it was hard to miss the murmuring happening among his human sheep. The first time he addressed them without his prize, he was able to lie about her being on a mission. Months later, though, that lie was beginning to wear thin. Malleable and stupid as they were, the humans knew how fast and thorough their glowing beacon was. Even before she became his, the people of Townsville knew how well their hero fought. Being on a mission for months seemed unlikely to them. His advisor had spoken about military missions and what not, quoting a human saying, “Loose lips sink ships”, but Aterex had been able to see the nervous energy. His humans were beginning to doubt. Eight years compliant and now that his prize was stolen, they begin to waver. How typical of a lower race. 

He considered the fuming warrior’s reflection, tilting his head slightly. Lower race indeed, but one of them had made Blossom and her sisters. And that was why he had taken in that man for his promise to make something just as good, something _better_ than Blossom, for him. Not long after, the Powerpunk Girls were born. Their creator, Dick Hardly, had pledged allegiance the moment he saw Blossom beside Aterex. Apparently, the greedy human had been thought dead for years, though how he had managed to hide with his green complexion and tendency to grow to enormous size in anger was a mystery.

Nevertheless, Aterex had allowed the mutated human into his circle. And then, the scientist made him his warriors, dark versions of Blossom and her sisters, from vinegar, salt, everything nasty, and a combination of a substance known as Chemical X and Narcassian blood. It was a potent mixture and Hardly had been excited to test their strength against Blossom. Aterex doubted they would do much damage. The result held true to his prediction: the Powerpunks, while outnumbering his prize and nearly destroying her, had wilted under her ice powers. 

They did the trick, however, and kept those rebellious vermin busy. Even with five more superpowered humans, the Powerpunks kept them busy and kept them away. He didn't need to waste Blossom and her powers on such vermin when he had lesser versions to throw around. No matter how many times the Powerpunks went against her, no matter how many times they brought her to the brink, she always managed to beat them.

Aterex chuckled. His prize had had a way of overcoming obstacles. He had witnessed a number of her missions and all were successes. Well…all but one. The featureless plane of his face rippled at the memory of the battle in the northwest. It had been an undeniable success, but it had come at large price. He supposed he should have predicted the scar it would leave on Blossom. The human sheep, the human pets, whispered that they didn't think Blossom was there willingly, talking of justice and righteousness. Eventually, he would have gotten her to come around without the use of the drug. However, to keep her docile, to keep her from using her ice powers, they had to drug her. The Narcassians just wanted to live and if they had to destroy another species, _a lesser species,_ to do it, what did that matter? Nothing. It mattered nothing.

And yet, he had never expected her to go catatonic after such a mission. A mission of destruction because those humans were getting too close, too full of themselves. The battle in the northwest was a reminder to them. The Narcassians were superior and the humans should understand that. Blossom had done so well, so, so well, but she had returned unresponsive. The drugs probably had put too much stress on her system; they had been made with _his_ blood that time.

He rolled his shoulders, admiring the strength he could feel in his limbs. Strongest of the Narcassians he was so of course his blood had been too much. For her to run away in such a state, though...

He narrowed his steely eyes out the window before glancing towards the kneeling warrior as she cleared her throat.

Standing, Berserk said curtly, “I’ll leave you to your sulking then, ‘great king’.”

Such impudence, but Aterex did not stop the woman from stalking out of the room. He cared not if her feelings were hurt. The emotions of one were less important than the needs of many. Rubbing his face, he narrowed his eyes at the ruins. Retrieving Blossom would secure a longer hold on this world.

It was indeed a need of the many.

* * *

If he were being perfectly honest, Boomer would admit that guarding Blossom was the easiest job he had ever had. For the last week, he was relaxing more than he had in what seemed like years. Usually, the blue ruff was busy with meetings or training his unit, spending so much time needing to focus or on his feet. With Blossom, however, he spent a large majority of the time in the library.

He had watched the pink puff read about five novels and three textbooks since his duty started and she had more waiting. They were piled high, two stacks on either side of her, on the table she often sat at. While awe inspiring, watching her read wasn’t exactly exciting. It was actually kind of boring.

“You should read something,” Blossom had encouraged the first day, seeing his bored expression. However, he had shook his head and continued standing firmly behind her chair. 

That hadn't been the last of her encouragement to read, however. When he had refused again the next day, she had changed tactics. Instead, she had begun asking questions while she read. Simple questions about the Resistance or his training or his relationships with others. He answered with short answers, but he caught how she gestured for him to sit. He didn't, standing just behind her left shoulder while the two other guards formed a miniature perimeter around their table.

On the third day, she had asked about his birthday.

"You know," she said, peering up from her textbook at him. "I don't think I know when your birthday is."

Boomer lifted an eyebrow. "It's not like there's much time _to_ celebrate birthdays anymore."

"I know, but it's a step towards learning about you and your brothers. We weren't really on good terms before, you remember."

He stared at her as she turned back to her book. She flipped the page, but he wasn't so sure she had read it.

Their birthday hadn't been anything special. They really only _had_ a birthday because Boomer and Butch had seen one on TV and had wanted one. They had been seven and had been in between living with Mojo and on the streets. Mojo had also been in jail; otherwise, they would have asked him. Brick had been the one to bite the bullet and sneak into Townsville Library. He had returned with a newspaper that both talked of their arrival and death.

"November sixth," Boomer said after a long silence.

Blossom turned to him, looking a little surprised, before a grin blazed across her face. It was hard not to respond to it, not when it reminded him so much of the smile Bubbles used to have.

She tilted her head and said, "Mine is July second."

The fourth day, he finally had acquiesced to her insistence to read something. She still asked questions, of course, everything from his favorite food to things going on around the Resistance to asking about his book. (He didn't read as fast as she or Brick did. He had barely gotten through two chapters.) He answered as much as he could without going too into detail.

Blossom never indicated that she was dissatisfied with his answers. She would just nod and move onto the next one, eyes drifting between him and her book. He couldn't really read what she was thinking when she did that, but she seemed happy when he answered no matter what. It was that happiness, that smile, that kept him answering her because it was the closest he was going to get to Bubbles' smile.

He wondered if she knew they had similar smiles.

"I can't believe that Brick is general at _nineteen_ ," she said, after he finished regaling her about one of their first missions.

Boomer shrugged and played with the page of his novel. His eyes stared down at it without seeing, remembering an older face and a younger Brick who still knew how to smile.

"…technically, he became general two years ago," he admitted. He continued playing with the page, flipping it irritably. "It's…not my place to say…but the old general had taken Brick under his wing. Like…Like your dad and Mrs. Cavadini, he had seen potential in us, in Brick, so…"

He hadn't been there, but he had heard about the battle. He remembered the hollow look in Brick's eyes, the hard set of his face and mouth. He remembered how his brother's shoulders seemed to sink when the mantle of general had passed to him over Lieutenant Hernandez, their original mentor, or Lieutenant Kenny. He remembered the hiss of anger, of hate from his brother when he had vowed to take down the aliens.

Butch hadn't been much better, beating himself up because he was the _fastest_ , he had the _shield._ The impenetrable shield that the aliens couldn't phase through. And none of that had mattered. Neither of his brothers had ever forgiven themselves for letting that happen. Butch just hid it better, but then again, he hadn't been handed the mantle of General. He had thrown himself into protecting Brick more often than not, though, threw himself into being more bodyguard than sergeant.

However, he didn't say any of that to Blossom. He figured he hadn't needed to. The contemplative look in her eyes said everything.

The fifth and sixth days had passed by the same way. Reading, talking, and, occasionally when she became fed up with reading, she had begun to draw. She had done so the first day too, when he had stood behind her shoulder and had not sat across from her like he was doing now.

He had discovered that she could draw pretty well from the sketches he had seen littering the pages of the sketchbook. Admittedly, it wasn’t something he had expected. When they were children, he knew Bubbles had been the most artsy, but looking at the realistic depictions of things and people around the base, he was wondering if all the girls had such ability.

Curiosity still tickled him even now, on the seventh day, as he sat in the chair opposite the redhead. He didn’t know how to bring it up, though. After all, Blossom looked engrossed in her new book, her head bent over the pages and arms bracketing the book. 

The blond man propped up his head, his own book open, but forgotten before him. The pink puff hadn’t done anything that could be labelled “threatening” the past week. All she did was sit and read or draw. Even the questions were relatively harmless. Most of them were common knowledge around the base, anyway. Well, with the exception of the personal questions in regards to Boomer, at least, but nothing that could be labeled as malicious. It seemed all very paranoid of his brother to order this guard.

Boomer didn’t want to doubt Brick, but he was beginning to think that maybe this whole “Blossom is a traitor” thing had something to do with her being his counterpart. It probably had less to do with protecting people and more to do with Brick’s own comfort. Not that he thought his brother would be so selfish, but it was obvious that he kept Blossom at arm’s distance. The most dangerous thing Blossom had really done was beat up Butch, but the green ruff had asked her to. Oh, and freeze Emmons, but…

Boomer frowned, brows furrowing at the thought of his late subordinate. Emmons had been told to kill her. He had been mutated for the sole purpose of killing the seemingly innocent woman in front of him. That had happened under his very nose! It irritated him that he could let something like that happen. That his soldier had been used in an alien plot. He could feel his blood boiling in hatred and shame. He hated how he could let that happen to one of the men he swore to protect. He may not have Butch's extreme speed, but he was the fastest after him. He should have done the sweep after that battle rather than let his soldiers do it. If he had, maybe Emmons wouldn't have died.

“It’s not your fault.” 

Shocked out of his thoughts, he looked up sharply. The gaze that met his was soft.

Blossom was looking at him with a sympathetic expression, almost apologetic. She closed her book after inserting a bookmark, placing it gently before her.

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” she continued, eyes holding his.

He felt his mouth twist, but he didn’t break eye contact. Someone had told him that breaking eye contact showed weakness or admitted subservience or something, but he didn’t feel defiant. He felt more…compliant? Or maybe…comfortable?

Blossom’s eyes weren’t challenging. If anything, they were sad. She didn't look like a threat at all, not with her low shoulders and closed body language. Her hands sat on top of her book, folded and tight with white knuckles. Her left thumb stroked her right.

“Are you going to tell me it’s your fault because the aliens are after you?” he asked finally, crossing his arms on the table. 

She shrugged. “Well, yes.”

Boomer frowned, looking incredulously at her. “I’m not going to say that’s not true, but you shouldn’t take all the responsibility onto yourself.”

He received a giggle and she leaned her chin on her knuckles. Her smile was still sad. “It’s a habit, I’m afraid.”

Sometimes he forgot that she wasn’t always the so-called antagonist. All he had to do was look at Robin or the Professor or Hanout, one of her guards, and he would see those trusting looks they gave her. It made him feel a little guilty. Like he had taken something dear away.

He supposed that they had, actually. Not physically, not purposefully, but by this ban and their actions, it was as good as stealing a child’s security blanket. Even if the ban was meant for their security, even if all they had was their safety in mind. Blossom had been their savior before he and his brothers had decided to protect them from aliens. She had been their protector against _them_.

“Anyway, the aliens would have probably resorted to the blood manipulation sooner or later,” he remarked gruffly, huffing a sigh. “It just…corresponded with your escape.”

“I guess so…” She smiled softly and he felt himself respond with his own smile.

“SO! When did you learn how to draw?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from such depressing thoughts. 

She chuckled nervously. She rubbed her mouth with a knuckle before responding. “Well, it was one of things the Narcassians taught me actually…” 

He raised an eyebrow. That seemed such a strange talent to cultivate in a superhuman. “They taught you to draw?”

“It was something about…making me a member of Aterex’s court, I believe,” she responded, frowning. Her eyes looked haunted, but she blinked a couple times and it was gone. Lacing her fingers together, she continued, “They taught me a lot of frivolous things, I suppose you could say. Drawing, dancing, their language, their culture… They might have attempted to teach me to sing or speak, but it’s fuzzy. The blood drug probably inhibited my speech, anyway, so there would have been no point. Ah, but besides these…cultural talents, they also taught me to fight.”

“From Butch’s reports, he can vouch for that,” Boomer tried for a light tone, but his mind was racing. She had probably told the Professor or someone already, but the knowledge that the aliens had been trying to assimilate Blossom seemed important. “I’m still stuck on the whole culture thing, though.”

The pink puff hummed in thought, her eyebrows furrowed. “I…can’t really say. I know…some things and I’ve remembered a lot since Buttercup found me back in July, but there are so many things that are still murky. If I could just…meditate without everyone’s thoughts bombarding me…”

He doubted she meant for the whining tone, but her expression became more and more frustrated the longer she talked and there was a flash of panic or anger on her face. He didn’t know what to do, honestly. His thoughts rolled in his confusion and he felt ashamed for them immediately. That was probably not helping her. However, he wasn’t sure how he could help. There wasn’t really anything within his powers to do.

Invisibility and illusions didn’t do much for the mind. He could attempt to make an illusion for her, but he had never really did more than himself before. If she wanted an illusion of solitude, she could try a simulator, but to her, those were off limits.

Boomer blinked rapidly, mouth falling open. That was it, wasn’t it? One _was_ open for her. He slapped his forehead, startling his charge. He couldn’t believe he was so stupid! It wasn’t like it was outside of her limits, either; the blond man had actually forgotten that she could go to the Professor’s lab. He didn’t know if the material the simulator was made of could block her telepathy, but it was worth a shot, right? It could at least dampen it and that was better than nothing.

For a moment, he wondered if the pink puff was getting any of his speeding thoughts as she was looking at him curiously. He was tempted to throw a thought or two to see if she was actually reading his mind or now. 

“Did you get any of that?” Boomer asked and Blossom frowned.

“Any of what?” 

“My thoughts,” he said, sitting up. He braced his hands on the table as he pushed the chair back. “I mean, since you seem bombarded all the time.”

“Oh, well, when I say bombarded, I mean that I can sense all the thoughts, but they’re more like a white noise, almost like how our super-hearing is,” she explained, looking up at him. She raised her eyebrows. “I was also trying to be polite and not invade your privacy.”

The blue ruff had the decency to look embarrassed before clearing his throat awkwardly. He really was questioning why his brother was so wary of Blossom.

“Well, if you use a simulator, it might dampen your telepathy, right? You could meditate in one," he began with a grin.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled slowly. “You’re right, Boomer. It was dampened when I fought Butch and I can use the simulator in the Professor’s lab as long as it’s before curfew. This could definitely help.”

“Both you and the Resistance.” He couldn’t help grinning back.

"You are a _genius_ , Boomer!" she cried with a clap of her hands.

He shrugged and rubbed his neck. No one really called him that. Brick was the idea man, after all. Boomer just…noticed things sometimes.

She looked excited. If she was excited, that had to be a good thing. If Blossom remembered, they might be able to change this war. They could fight back more easily than they had been. They wouldn’t have to live like rats underground. 

“Well, then, why don’t we go?” Hanout spoke up from behind Boomer, taking a step next to the sergeant. He tilted his head curiously, grinning a bit. “If it’ll help both of us, then the sooner, the better right?”

“Glad you could join us, Hanout,” Blossom laughed, standing as well. “Well then, we should go. I mean, it’s around noon now, so the Professor should be on break.” 

Boomer snorted. “Fat chance. You should know him. If he has a goal in mind, then he’ll stop at nothing to see it through.”

Blossom faltered a little, but she kept a steady smile. He wondered if she had read his thoughts or was thinking the same thing as him. When the Professor had a goal, he didn't stop until he reached it, sleep and food be damned. He had to be searching for a way to prove that she was a victim in all this.

Boomer was beginning to see it was true, but without evidence, Brick wouldn’t budge. He had plenty of experience with his brother’s tenacity to know that he wouldn’t change his opinion easily. And if there was one thing that Brick had hated passionately, it was Blossom.

If they could get information from her through this meditation, though, then maybe the red ruff would let some of his hatred _go_. There were far too little allies in the world anymore for them to be so paranoid. They needed every superhuman they could get, even if that superhuman used to be one of their bitterest enemies. 

* * *

Unsurprisingly, when they arrived at his lab, the Professor was deep in the middle of doing some kind of research. He was bent over a microscope, the screen next to him displaying some kind of cellular structure that he poked and prodded. The most notable thing about it, Blossom found, was the color. The cells were all a mixture of red and dark, dark purple. The purple mostly appeared in the cells or around the cells themselves, stark against the red background.

From her father's thoughts, fast though tidy, a beacon of focus through the more of abrupt suspicion from the other scientists, these cells were blood cells. Blood cells that had once belonged to Emmons and her stomach sunk. Even in death, the purple of the Narcassian blood invaded the red of the human. It seemed much slower than before, probably because they were decaying, but she could see the minuscule spread.

This was what the blood could do when it was unrefined, not filtered and diluted through medication and chemicals. The realization that that had been in her, that that may have left effects on her, rolled her stomach. If it still crawled after death, maybe Brick had a reason to remain wary of her.

Boomer made his way over to the Professor and cleared his throat.

With the tone of a man used to chastising people who bothered him in the middle of work, because Blossom remembered doing that to him herself when she was little, her father said, "I'll be with you in a moment, Boomer."

"I still don't know how you can tell who it is with just that," Boomer countered, taking two steps back as the Professor turned to jot something down.

"It's been eight years. I should be able to tell," he responded and looked up at them. His face softened tremendously when he saw her. "Hi, sweetie. How are you holding up?"

"Oh, it's only been a week." Blossom waved her hand blithely, ignoring the thoughts her father threw at her. That hadn't been what he was talking about. "Boomer had a wonderful idea earlier. I was wondering if I could use the simulator to meditate? I may be able to recall memories more clearly if I don't have the din of everyone's thoughts around me."

As much as she wanted to question about the blood, she had a goal. That could come later, given that whatever memory she recalled didn't leave her drained. The ones she had recalled with Butch had left her tired beyond belief, but that may have been a combination of fighting with the sergeant and trying not to let the memories consume her at the same time.

The Professor's face lit up. He immediately began shuffling his papers before jumping to his feet. Without further ado, he ushered their small group over the simulator, not even once questioning her reasons.

"That is a _brilliant_ idea! The simulators are all made of duranium to prevent your powers from damaging it, plus virtual reality technology that we've perfected over the years. We just need the perfect setting for you to meditate," he was saying, already pushing buttons. His smile waned a little. "Ah, though...maybe Boomer should be in with you? You've said...and, well, Buttercup too mentioned that sometimes—"

"I need absolute solitude," Blossom cut in, even though she did agree. "If something seems wrong, you can end the simulation and send Boomer in, but I need to be by myself."

Her father hesitated before nodding. "Of course. Boomer's thoughts could distract you… All right. But…But if something seems wrong, if you look like you're in _pain—_ "

"You can end the simulation and send Boomer in," she confirmed with a nod. She then winced. "I apologize in advance, Boomer. I _have_ hit Buttercup and Butch when they tried to get me out of a memory."

Boomer waved a hand. "I understand. Don't worry. I've taken some pretty hard hits before."

A flash of a demon jumped between them, followed by an image of red and green flashes intercepting the monster. An overwhelming wave of loyalty and love followed it before he completely shut down the memories. He winced before offering an apologetic look.

Her only response was a smile; a smile she hoped was reassuring because she hadn’t expected those images. They must have come from way before the Narcassians had invaded, from before the Boys had even left. It seemed, despite Brick and Butch's constant needling of their brother's intelligence, that they still cared for him all the same.

That knowledge gave her hope. Maybe Butch and Boomer could get through to Brick.

Maybe she just might have a chance at joining the Resistance.

Her smile grew firmer, warmer, and she nodded sharply at the sergeant. Turning back to the Professor, she squared her shoulders.

"Shall we?"

Not long after, she was seated in a simulated field. Warm sunlight caressed her skin, making her smile despite its artifice. That was something she missed dearly. Living underground made her crave fresh air and bright sunlight, the feel of grass and dirt under her palms, the wind against her face. The simulator made a decent substitution, but even it could only go so far. She was sure she wasn't the only one who missed flying through the sky or laying down on a sandy beach and soaking up the sun.

A gentle breeze played with her hair and clothes. She breathed out slowly. The pleasant scent of grass and flowers wafted after it, calming her. Her breaths were rhythmic and even as she centered herself. She let her mind go, let it focus on nothing in particular, and urged the memories forward despite the lack of stimuli. After all, memories had appeared before with less, so just a simple meditation should work.

A gentle inhale, a gentle exhale. A focus on the feel of the grass, on the sun, on the wind. Ignoring the artifice of it and letting it become real. Letting her hands relax, her body relax, until she felt like she was floating.

Inhale, exhale

Inhale, exhale

Inhale, exhale

Release the emotions, release the stress, worry, fear, and excitement. There were no thoughts here, no thoughts but her own, no emotions but her own, even if the empathetic link she shared with her sisters would always be there.

Inhale, exhale

Inhale, exhale

Inhale, exhale

Maybe she _should_ focus on something. Something that wouldn't shake her calm. Something like…

Her back tingled.

_Red_

_Pink_

_Red_

_Pink_

_Redpinkredpinkredpink_

_Blue?_

Blossom kept her breathing steady, as steady as she could as the colors assaulted her mind's eye.

Blue was new. Blue hadn't been there before. Red and pink, yes, but not blue.

_A dark but golden room spread before her, tinted red for whatever reason. She didn't know if it was sunset or sunrise or if the red was even actually there. There weren't many windows in the dark city, in the golden city. She had been ushered in and tied to a table; a table with a plethora of…dyes? Dyes and needles next to it._

_Her mind felt fuzzy, felt horrible. She could hear Aterex speaking, could hear another submissive voice answer him._

_"Mark her, slave! She is_ mine _!" Aterex snapped._

_She whimpered and her heart raced._

_She was_ not _his. She would_ never _be_ his _._

_The submissive voice whispered to her, hands against her back, poking and prodding._

_"Relax, —" A garbled word, a bitter thought. "It…It will be over soon. This mark—"_

_She would_ NOT _be his!_

 _Pink flashed. Then blue, then_ green _. Pink blue green pink blue green pink blue green pink blue green_

_Red_

_Pink blue green pink blue green pink blue green pink blue green pink blue green_

_RED_

_Pinkbluegreenpinkbluegreenpinkbluegreenpinkbluegreenpinkbluegreenpinkbluegreenpinkbluegreen_

_R E D_

_The voice gasped and the assurances began anew, firmer, stronger. The hands moved deftly._

_"Yes, yes! I see! You are—"_

_PINKBLUEGREENPINKBLUEGREENPINKBLUEGREENPINKBLUEGREEN_

_R E D_

_P I N K_

_B L U E_

_G R E E N_

_"You fool!_

_A roar._

_Her body flinched instinctively._

_"How could you mark her wrong!? There is no time to fix this!"_

_"It is what she wanted," the submissive voice uttered and Aterex snarled._

_The sound of a body slamming into the wall barely broke through the haze in her mind. She whimpered in her shackles. Her eyes tried to move, but everything felt sluggish._

_She caught reflections in the floor._

_Pink_

_"Sniveling_ fool _! What gibberish did you write! I should have killed you long ago!" Aterex snarled._

_Blue_

_A hand grabbed her hair and tugged, twisting her head to the side. She whimpered again._

_Green_

_A displeased hiss._

_Pink_

_"Feh. We will fix this when she returns from—"_

_Blue_

_"Seattle, my liege."_

_Green_

_Her head lulled as much as it could with his fist in her hair. Her eyes dragged over the reflections in the golden floor, over the distortion of red eyes peering back at her. Over the shadowy form of Aterex._

_She shivered._

_Se…at…le…?_

_"Yes, that city. In the northwest." Another growl and her hair fell around her face. "Useless!"_

_Eyes stared up from the golden floor, eyes that looked…_

_Red_

_RED_

_Seattle_

_RED_

_SEATTLE_

_R E D_

_S E A T T L E_

Blossom fell forward, hands jumping to her skull.

Her stomach rolled and she gasped. She spat out the foul taste of bile, but her stomach refused to calm.

Seattle was red. Why was Seattle red? What happened in Seattle?

Her body trembled.

She gasped.

Vaguely, she thought she heard the Professor call to her. She thought she heard Boomer call to her.

She couldn't hear them. She stared at the grass without seeing. Red pooled in her vision, red that stained everything, stained her hands and her skin and the very air.

Screams echoed in her ears.

Seattle was…

Seattle was… _bad_.

Everything in her rejected everything about the city. About the name, the word, the mere _thought_. Her body convulsed, but the red played before her eyes all the same.

Seattle was bad, but she had to know. She had to remember.

Seattle was…

_A battleground, full of soldiers. Human soldiers, Resistance soldiers and Narcassian soldiers, the ones who had sold their souls to Aterex. Alien soldiers in special armor to protect them from winter's chill._

_She did not feel the chill. It was like she wasn't in her body, but watching through someone else's eyes. Her hand rose and—_

_Screams. So many screams._

_Laughter echoed from the three lights that arched above her. The Powerpunks were here too then. Yes, to keep an eye, but they…they loved destruction too much._

_If her mind was not so foggy, she was sure that would remind her of something. If her mind had been her own at the moment…_

_Her body moved and she felt sick. Humans and Narcassians alike fell to her hands, blood coating her skin._

_He told her to destroy. So she would destroy._

_The drug made her listen and the drug was strong, too strong this time. She had no mind, just a doll with a consciousness trapped inside._

_Destroy_

_Destroy_

_DESTROY_

_D E S T R O Y_

Blossom opened her mouth and _screamed_.

* * *

Training Buttercup was not one of Bubbles' favorite things to do. If anything, it was in her top ten _least_ favorites if only because she _knew_ that her sister didn't need it. Buttercup was like Butch. The two of them had a propensity for fighting that the rest of them didn't have. Sure, Brick and Blossom were both good at battle strategy, but _fighting_? Buttercup and Butch had made that an _art_. She was only slightly bitter to admit that. Espionage and interrogation were more Bubbles' forte.

At this point, where she knew that Buttercup could easily be made an officer if Brick wasn't being so stubborn, she was only really going through the motions. Punch, kick, block, punch, punch, kick, punch, block. Moving through the standard combat training that all cadets received because that was procedure. That was how things were _done_. It was a semblance of normalcy in a world turned topsy-turvy.

Punch, kick, kick, block

Bubbles was only slightly bitter that Brick had assigned her to Buttercup. She knew it was his weird way of keeping her _safe_ , but she didn't need protecting. She hadn't needed protecting in a long, long time. He should know that by now and yet. And yet.

Here she was.

Punch, punch, kick, kick, block, kick, block

Buttercup was scowling at her. Both of them had barely sweated, the actions too rote by now for them to really work up a sweat. A brief glance confirmed the rest of the cadets were drenched, but she and her sister were dry. Well, maybe a faint sheen of sweat shone on Buttercup's forehead, but nothing like a good sparring training, one full of energy blasts and flying, could bring.

Bubbles trusted Boomer. Of course, she did. If anyone could take care of her sister, he could because Boomer was sweet, kind, and gentle. He understood emotions the best out of his brothers, even if Bubbles had done her best to teach all three Rowdyruffs what empathy and compassion was. Maybe it was a counterpart thing; Bubbles had been the best with emotions out of her sisters, so Boomer of course would be the best out of his brothers. That still didn't mean she wasn't bitter, though.

Sure, Boomer could care for Blossom, but she was _her_ sister. If anyone should be keeping an eye on her, it should be _her_.

Punch, punch, kick, kick, block, punch, kick

Bubbles dropped and swiped Buttercup's feet out from under her the moment an opening showed up.

Her sister yelped, but caught herself in a float right above the floor. She spun and slammed her foot into Bubbles' shoulder.

She rolled with the impact, rolling back onto her feet. Her shoulder stung, but she immediately returned to a fighting stance.

"Nice recovery," she remarked as Buttercup rose up.

The scowl almost lessened. A muted flare what might be pride followed.

Her sister matched her stance, fists raised and body closed.

Neither moved, both staring the other down, analyzing each other as they had long been taught. Bubbles braced herself, sinking down just a little. Buttercup mirrored her, but widened her stance instead. The scowl flashed into a cocky grin.

Now it was Bubbles' turn to scowl. Hissing a breath, she lunged forward with a punch.

A wave of despair and panic knocked her to her knees.

She choked on a gasp as she fell, knees slamming into the padded mat under them. Her heart raced, the panic filling every single nerve in her body. Her limbs trembled and her hands soon joined her knees. The tears came unbidden. Her throat screamed from her ragged breaths, but she couldn't stop them. Her heart felt stuffed, beating fast and loud and painfully, painfully hard. Every inch of her trembled, every breath shook. Every breath _hurt_.

Her vision swam. Tears blurred her white-knuckled hands. She choked on a sob.

There was a growl from in front of her. She barely managed to lift her head. Through her tears and hair, she could just see Buttercup in a similar state. Her knuckles shone white too. Her body trembled too. She was snarling, tears pooled in her eyes, and the green fire of her beast flickered over her. Her breathing picked up.

Bubbles reached out a shaking hand. Her fingers brushed her sister's fist.

Buttercup looked up then, eyes wild and wide, and she _knew_. They both _knew_.

"Blossom," she breathed and her sister inhaled sharply.

For a moment, they could only stare at each other as the panic and despair consumed them. Then, a determined look overcame the wild expression on the green puff's face. The flames disappeared.

Bubbles matched her determination and took a breath. They nodded to each other.

Their streaks were all that remained as they barreled out of the training room.

* * *

The simulator was shrieking, shrieking about conditions, safety, and the abrupt change from a hillside in spring to…

To…

What Boomer could only assume winter was like in Nepal. Or, maybe, Antarctica.

A blizzard filled the window and the viewing screen, obscuring everything within the simulator. Blossom's scream had preceded it and then static filled the coms. Well, maybe not _static_ , per se… The noise was more like muffled wind, like something had completely and utterly covered the microphones in cotton. That made no sense, at least to him, because he didn't think that there were physical microphones within the simulators. Then again, he really didn't know how they were built, anyway.

He could only stare in horror as the Professor and another one of the scientists scrambled to calm the blizzard down. They couldn't, though, because the simulator didn’t cause the blizzard. The Professor should know this, but…but Boomer couldn't blame him for his panic.

Blossom was in the middle of that blizzard. She was the _cause_ of that blizzard. Whatever she had remembered had caused the biggest reaction he ever thought he would see.

He abruptly remembered pure red eyes and black smoke billowing from snarling lips. He remembered watching white hot flames melt stone.

His fingers fumbled as he pulled up his communicator.

-

[Message Sent 09/10/xx 1:34PM]

_Me: Has Blossom ever used her ice powers when remembering something?_

_Butch: No_

_Butch: y?_

_Me: Something happened. Don't tell Brick_

_-_

Boomer swallowed nervously and shoved his communicator back into his pocket. Well, this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Whatever she remembered must have been horrible for her to cause a _blizzard_. She had warned him she might hit. She said nothing about _freeze_.

His body went cold as he thought of the possibilities. His breathing picked up before he shook his head. Now wasn't the time to panic. Focus on the present before shoving all curiosity about Blossom's _trauma_ aside. There would never be time for that.

"Profes—," he began and froze at the voice the growled behind him.

" _What is going on_?"

This was _very_ bad.

* * *

Bubbles stared at the simulator and felt cold. They weren't entirely sure how they knew where to go, but she and Buttercup had been moving on instinct the moment they decided what to do. If anyone had tried to talk to them on the way, if they had yelled or shouted at them for zooming down the halls, she didn't know. She didn't care. Their leader needed them and hell wasn't going to stop them getting to her.

Somehow, they had made it to the Professor's lab.

Now, Buttercup was growling at Boomer and demanding answers, but Bubbles could only stare at the blizzard before her. The despair ached in her chest, curled and twisted and sobbing. Her lips trembled as she stared at the blustery white in front of her. No thoughts reached her, nothing besides panic and despair. Her throat felt tight and the tears that had long pooled in her eyes spilled over.

She did not sob.

She did not make a noise.

Her fingers touched the glass of the window. She could almost pretend it was cold, but the walls and glass were much too thick for such elements to leak through. That didn't stop a chill shooting down her spine. She shifted and her reflection stared back at her, pale and wide-eyed with tears rolling down her cheeks.

For a moment, pink eyes and copper hair flashed over her.

Bubbles squared her shoulders.

"I'm going in there," she declared and cut off whatever rant that Buttercup had gone on.

The Professor grabbed her shoulders, turning her to him. His eyes were wide and frantic.

"Bubbles, honey, I'm worried too, but that blizzard has caused the temperature to drop into the _negatives_. Even you're not that strong to resist that," he explained pleadingly. "I'm not…I'm not sure how Blossom's resisting that."

His voice shook. He shook and her heart shook with him.

As gently as she could, she shrugged out of his hold. She took a deciding step backwards, towards the door to the simulator.

"Professor, _dad_ , I love you, but I'm going in." She lifted her chin with determination. "That's my _sister_."

Whatever retort the Professor was going to say immediately died. He stared at her, half in awe, half in that heart-aching loving way he did. His own eyes filled with tears.

"Bubbles," he murmured, but she was already turning.

A hand grabbed her arm.

She tried to ignore the shock that went through her at the touch, at the touch of a rough hand sparking with power. To ignore the lump that jumped to her throat. To ignore the faint rising of her pulse. Now was not the time for such…things.

Gritting her teeth, ignoring the faint shiver from his skin against hers, she looked over her shoulder. She steeled herself as she met cobalt eyes.

Boomer had a frown on his face, almost like he might argue with her. There was a faint tremor in his fingers, but, to her surprise, he let her go. Dropping her eyes, he began removing his uniform jacket. She stared almost uncomprehendingly when he held it out to her. Her eyes darted between his face and the jacket.

Tentatively, she reached out.

"This will at least give you some insulation," he muttered when she finally held his jacket. Their eyes met and his face softened. Her heart gave an abrupt throb. "Bubbles… I think she's in pain. There was a scream and then…this… And Butch said she's never used her ice powers when remembering something."

"She hasn't," Buttercup snapped. She was pulling on what looked like one of the Professor's sweaters and a lab coat from one of the scientists. "Whatever Blossom's remembering…"

The two sisters met gazes.

The panic and despair echoed between them.

Bubbles clenched her fists.

"…it's bad," she finished and then turned back to the simulator's door. "Let's go."

Together, she and Buttercup entered the simulator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm sorry. It's a cliffhanger. Oops?


	12. Chapter 11: Powerpuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I hope everyone is staying home and staying safe! 
> 
> Here is the eleventh chapter of Storm! I am sorry in advance

The winds buffeted them, stinging their exposed skin despite the toughness of it. Had they been normal humans, maybe the wind and the ice would have actually left cuts, like a normal person's skin splitting with the cold. Since they weren't, all that they received were red cheeks and trembling limbs.

Bubbles huddled closer to Buttercup more on instinct than an actual desire to be closer to her older sister. Just because they were joining forces to help Blossom didn't mean she had forgiven her just yet. There was just…too much there to unpack. That could be dealt with later. They had a mission and she wasn't going to fail it.

Not with the despair in her throat and the panic in her chest.

"BLOSSOM!" Buttercup screamed, but the wind ripped away her voice.

Just like it had the first few times that they had tried calling out to their sister. They hadn't made it very far from the door, even if the door had disappeared as soon as they had joined the simulation. They couldn't risk ending it and letting the blizzard wreak havoc unencumbered. Just because the simulators were made with duranium did not mean that could withstand the raging storm of ice and snow. Supposedly, the Professor had changed the simulation from a meadow to something out of the Arizona desert, but you couldn't tell that by looking around.

Their feet sunk into snow at least seven inches thick. If there was sand or hard dirt under there, Bubbles certainly couldn't tell. She couldn't even see if there were rocks or cacti in the distance. The snow barely let her see a foot in front of her, let alone anything farther. They didn't even know if they were walking in the correct direction towards their sister. There was nothing besides ice, wind, and despair.

She shivered and clutched Boomer's jacket closer to herself. Her shoulder bumped into Buttercup's as they walked, but her sister made no move to move away. Any kind of heat was better than nothing.

"Blossom!" she called, knowing it was futile, but still needing to _try_. "Bloss—!"

Coughs cut her off, her throat feeling frozen. Her shoulders shook as she hacked and choked, clutching at her throat and chest. She shivered violently at the chill seeping down her esophagus.

A firm hand rubbed her back.

"Shouting's not working!" Buttercup called over the wind. She was scowling, looking around when Bubbles finally managed to look up. "Shit! Should we try blasting?"

That didn't surprise her that her sister would go straight to that. Rolling her eyes, she straightened, or straightened as much as the bitter wind could let her. There had to be a way to reach Blossom. A way to call out to her…

She stared unseeingly in the blistering white. She rubbed her chest again, right over her heart, right over where it fluttered in a panic not fully her own. They did have a way to reach her, didn't they? They had _two_ ways, technically. This…had to be the reason why they had developed this empathy. To reach each other even when far away. To reach each other and still be connected no matter the distance.

Bubbles closed her eyes.

_"Blossom!"_ she called through her mind and her heart. _"Blossom! Please! Where are you?"_

"Ugh, of course, you're no help," Buttercup grumbled.

A light lit up through her eyelids.

Bubbles opened her eyes to glare at her sister. With her own scowl, she shoved Buttercup's arm down and the green energy exploded feet in front of them.

"Hey!"

"Did you forget that Blossom has _telepathy_?" Bubbles snapped. "Have you tried calling her that way?"

Buttercup stared at her before cursing colorfully. She turned away and narrowed her eyes into the storm. The blue puff stared at her for a moment, examining her face, before Buttercup sagged. She was still scowling.

"Nothing," she grumbled.

They staggered as a large gust of wind slammed into them. They grabbed each other to stay on their feet, leaning into one another until the gust ebbed.

Moving hurt, but Bubbles turned her head towards the direction they were facing. The winds hadn't nearly lessened, but at least gusts like that weren't often. Her skin still complained, but her cheeks had gone numb at some point and her fingers were well on their way. She tried snuggling down into Boomer's jacket for warmth, thankful for their difference in size in the moment. The sleeves easily covered her frozen fingers, fingers that still clutched Buttercup.

She jerked away from her sister, but the snow around her ankles made her stumble. A hand grabbed her arm to steady her, which was ridiculous because she could _fly_. Casting a miffed look at the green puff and tearing her arm away, she nevertheless grumbled her gratitude.

Once upright, she stared into the storm. The panic in her chest hadn't lessened, if anything it felt _worse_. She bit her nail and rocked side to side. Neither one of them had gotten a response, but Blossom was still in pain. She was still somewhere here, but they couldn't _get_ to her. The wind, snow, and ice were too fast and too thick and each step forward, no matter their strength, felt like a thousand needles sinking into their skin.

"We should try calling together," she finally said, bitter though it was on her tongue. "If she's not responding to us alone, then we have to try together."

Buttercup's lip curled.

"You're right," she grumbled. "I hate it because... I hate it."

Still, she closed her eyes.

Bubbles followed suit and took a deep breath. She tried calling again, but another wave of despair had her gasping. She clutched her chest and looked up in time to see Buttercup doing the same.

Their eyes met.

Without a word, without even a grimace, Bubbles held out her hand. She knew Buttercup was upset for more than just their current situation. She knew she had been upset for years. Bubbles had been upset for years, but, well, they hadn't had their usual voice of reason. Buttercup hadn't listened to anyone, hadn't listened to the Professor, and Bubbles...well, Bubbles didn't want to appear like a crybaby anymore.

Now was the time to put that aside. In this storm, in this blizzard of pain and despair, they had to push aside that they were angry. That they were hurt. That they were upset with each other and with their whole situation. They had to work together, darn it. Their sister needed them.

Buttercup stared at her hand for a long, long moment. She didn't move and her face had gone blank. There was no scowl, no grimace, none of the anger that usually covered up her worry. Green eyes met hers, once more.

Her sister's skin was cold against hers. It was a miracle Bubbles could even feel her skin with how numb her everything was. All the same, it was the connection she needed. After all, they had always been strongest together.

She closed her eyes.

_"Blossom! Blossom, please! Answer us!"_ She called and waited.

Something changed in the wind. Its roar sounded off, like...

Her eyes popped open to see a tunnel of ice and snow before them. It swirled, leaving a perfectly calm path right to—

Bubbles' stomach plummeted. Without a word, without a sound besides a choked " _Blossom_ ", she jetted towards the fetal form of her oldest sister. She didn't have to look to know Buttercup was beside her. The doubled panic through their bonds told her more than enough.

"Blossom! Leader Girl, hey!" Buttercup cried as soon as they were at her side.

The snow bit into Bubbles' knees as she knelt next to her sister. Buttercup was on her other side with her hands held out above Blossom's shoulders. She didn't touch her, though. Bubbles didn't touch her either, afraid that if she did, her sister might collapse.

The tunnel did collapse, the winds cocooning them in the eye of the storm. Faint snowflakes fluttered around them, but nothing like the hail beyond their bubble of peace. The sky was white, covered in clouds from Blossom's personal storm, brilliant compared to the dark winds behind them.

Her sister's hair shone like flames against the white, a stark slash of color from her hair cascading down her back. The bright red bow sat askew from fingers tugging at her skull, tugging at her mind. Those fingers tangled in her hair looked blue.

Bubbles wished she had Brick's fire in that moment. Because she felt no warmth from her sister, no faint body heat. Blossom had always had a lower body temperature ever since her development of her ice breath, but not to the point where she didn't generate heat.

Her heart twisted.

"Blossom!" she cried and grabbed her sister's shoulder. "Blossom, please!"

Her sister didn't move.

Bubbles met Buttercup's eyes over her head. She hated the sting in her eyes, hated the wobble in her lip. She had not cried in a moment of crisis in years. She was not about to do it now.

Sucking in a breath, she set her jaw.

"…a monster…"

Bubbles froze.

Buttercup's eyes were wide.

"Blossom…?" Buttercup murmured.

Bubbles leaned closer to her eldest sister. She tried sending comforting feelings through their bond, but she…she didn't know if it was working. That long ago moment that she had felt that bond form, she had done everything to stifle it. Anything so she wouldn't feel Buttercup's grief, her anger, her joy and fear and rage. Such a deep, deep _rage_. The green puff had never really gotten past the anger stage of grief, not really.

Not if she considered what she had yelled at her years ago.

While the bond to Buttercup had been too much, too much emotion from a person she was trying so desperately to hate, the other bond had hurt all the more. The emptiness, the dull, dull ache of _missing_ something. Occasionally, Bubbles would trick herself into thinking she felt something: anger, determination, confidence. Things she…she knew Blossom would feel in…such a desolate world. They had probably come from Buttercup, but…maybe…maybe that she now _had_ Blossom, maybe those tricks, those illusions had been real. She had shut them down, all the same, though.

Why keep an empty bond open?

She was regretting working so hard on meditating and blocking those emotions out. Blocking the tricks and illusions and the searing nothingness. She had no idea if any of her feelings were reaching Blossom. Any of her pain, her worry, her want to help.

"I'm a…monster," Blossom murmured, but she didn't lift her head. If anything, she curled into a tighter ball. "He's right. I…I'm a threat. I… You should…"

Rage flared through their bond, so much sharper than ever before. Bubbles wobbled from the sheer force of it.

Unblocking her link to Blossom must have unblocked the other one too. She supposed that made some kind of twisted sense, even if she didn't like it.

"Bullshit! You're no monster!" Buttercup snapped. She took Blossom's shoulders and gave them a little shake. "Blossom, Bloss, you are _not_ a monster."

Bubbles wormed her hand out from under Buttercup's. She placed it lower on Blossom's arm. She was almost leaning against her as she smoothed her hair.

Blossom flinched.

"Blossom, what's wrong?" Bubbles murmured. "What…what did you remember?"

"That I'm a monster!" Blossom cried and she finally, finally looked up. Tears, or the frosty tracks of tears, sparkled on her cheeks. Her eyes were pinker than normal, bloodshot from her crying. Her face contorted as a wave of grief hit them all. "I…oh God, how could I…? I'm so, so sorry… I…"

Her face contorted with grief.

She dropped her face back into her hands.

The storm grew closer. The winds howled louder and louder.

A shiver ripped through Bubbles, a shiver that mirrored the shake in her chest. Her teeth clacked together. She tugged Boomer's jacket as tight as she could around her.

"Blossom, you're not… How could you be a monster?" she asked and, for only a moment, contemplated using her hypnosis.

Only for a moment, only to help, but then she remembered the drug.

The blood drug.

Used to make her sister do things she wouldn't normally. To control her.

Like hypnosis

Like she had over a month ago

She decided not to use her hypnosis.

With shaking, frozen fingers, she rubbed Blossom's arm. The sweater she wore should warm her palms from the friction, but it felt like it was frozen too. Ice cracked under her palm. How was Blossom able to move?

"Because…" Blossom murmured, head bent, body beginning to tremble. "Because… _Seattle_."

An arrow shot through Bubbles' chest. The world narrowed onto her sister. Everything went quiet, even though the storm raged, even though her skin ached from cold. She could only stare at her sister, at her trembling sister, in…shock? Horror? She couldn't decipher what she was feeling. She couldn't…was it shock from Buttercup? From her? She could only stare.

The Seattle Massacre was the worst battle in the history of the Resistance. Even the first few battles they had, before they had settled into a militaristic hierarchy, hadn't been as bad as that battle. Even the first invasion hadn't been that bad.

There had been no survivors, no witnesses to tell them what had happened, nothing when reinforcements had arrived. The report had said there was evidence of energy blasts on the ground and on bodies, on both human and alien alike. A good chunk of the city had been leveled in the battle. The hypothesis was that the Powerpunks had been there because only a superhuman (or a group of them) could do so much damage in such a relatively short time. The claw and scythe marks helped with that assumption, as did the ruined earth.

But ice could ruin earth too.

The Resistance soldiers had had time to call for reinforcements, but by the time they had gotten there, almost a good eight hours later, they had found a wasteland. Or so said the report.

Bubbles hadn't gone to see the remains of Seattle. She hadn't gone to see the battlefield. She had mourned for their lost, mourned for the sheer devastation that had happened, but she had not set foot on that ground. Brick hadn't let her. The Professor hadn't let her. Out of the superhumans at the Resistance, only Brick and Butch had seen that.

That had also been the last time Brick had gone out into the field. He had thrown himself into planning and strategizing after that horrible, horrible day.

And Blossom…Blossom had something to do with it.

Bubbles' breathing picked up.

"…what…are you talking about?" Buttercup growled, her voice low, gravelly, and so, so _angry_.

"I…I was _there_ ," Blossom said and stared at her hands. They shook. She shook. "I… So…so many. I… He told me to destroy so I... The drug was…it was so _strong_ … I couldn't…I couldn't even… _think_ and I… Those…Those poor _people_!"

The sobs ripped right through her. Bawling sobs, heart-wrenching sobs of desperation and despair and desolation. The ugly kind of sobbing with gasping and heaving and fingers tearing through hair.

Blossom wasn't…wasn't supposed to cry like that. Blossom wasn't supposed to be so broken to cry like that.

Bubbles' breathing seemed to speed up with her sister's. Her fingers had gone numb; her whole body had gone numb.

Another's breathing also picked up, but not from horror, not from panic. It picked up with an all-consuming anger, an overwhelming rage that filled their empathy link and almost blocked out the panic and pain. Flickering green light had her lifting her head.

Buttercup's beast flared around her, the green flames brilliant against the white. Unlike Brick, her fire did not burn, did not give off heat. It glowed and raged and was only really meant to be a warning. If the beast came out, you should run.

Buttercup wasn't seeing them, not really. Sure, she looked like she was staring right at Blossom, but Bubbles knew that those fluorescent green eyes were not focused on her. They had a different target. A target far from them, encased in a shell of black.

"I'm going to kill them. To kill _all_ of them! How-How _dare—_!" she seethed and snarled and growled.

Bubbles had no qualms letting her sister do so. The numb in her chest was shattering. A thousand pieces of carefully held together steel was shattering and a burning took its place.

The aliens had done this to her sister. The aliens had made her, _drove_ her to become a-become a—

"A monster. A weak, pathetic _monster_ ," Blossom hissed and Bubbles wasn't sure if she was responding to her thoughts or not. "I... There was so much blood... No wonder I...I see red all the time. No wonder anger and fear trigger me... They...were all so a-a-afraid! And I—! And I—!"

Her breathing sounded ragged, quick, fast. The cold seeped from her everything, ice cracking over the snow. Her trembling became worse. Her hair fell around her face as shaking fingers tugged and slipped through it.

Bubbles didn't care anymore. Didn't care about armor, about steel, about pretending that she was above emotion. She didn't care that ice and frost was starting to creep over her limbs and that it bit into her skin and hurt worse than a burn. Her heart hurt. Her throat closed up. Her own fingers trembled and she felt the pressure behind her eyes.

She was tired of being strong. Tired of wearing a suit of armor. Tired of fighting, of grief, of this damn war. She was tired of seeing people she loved in pain. Of them being stressed and frantic and on edge. Tired of seeing pink eyes looking hollow and haunted. Tired of seeing red eyes with dark bruise-like circles under them. Tired of cobalt and forest and lime exhausted but resolute. Tired of seeing her father laid up in the medical bay because he had to find a way to defeat the aliens, had to find a way to protect them all. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how thick her armor had become, she was tired of walking through the halls and seeing serious faces, scared faces. Smiles that tried, tried, _tried_ to be bright in a world gone dim.

She was tired of hiding away. And she was tired of keeping her sister at arm's length.

Chest bubbling with more emotion than she had let herself feel in a long time, she threw her arms around Blossom. She stroked her hair and rocked her, rocked her like Blossom used to do for Bubbles, when nightmares woke her up in the middle of the night. She made soothing noises at Blossom's sobs, at Blossom's tears, her heart aching, her chest pounding.

Frozen fingers clung to Boomer's jacket. Ice tinkled and cracked over the fabric. Bubbles didn't care.

"I'm sorry, Blossom," she murmured, squeezing. "I'm so sorry that happened to you!"

"He-He told me to destroy," Blossom said without hearing her. Bubbles squeezed her tighter. "And I…no discrimination… I just…I _destroyed_!"

Bubbles' heart wrenched at the sheer amount of despair. The sheer amount of pain, of _sorrow_. Her big sister had always been the most heroic, had always been the one who just…couldn't stop being a superhero no matter what. She had been the best of them, the strongest and bravest and so, so bright. Being good, being a hero, was just…second nature to Blossom.

And look what Aterex had done.

Look what he had twisted her sister into doing with his foul drugs and fouler blood.

Bubbles' hold tightened again, but she tried not to choke her poor, hysterical sister. Tried not to cause any more pain when all Bubbles wanted to do was follow Buttercup into battle.

"Blossom, we're here," she murmured. "You're not…"

She paused, a lump in her throat stopping her. Her own watery gasp joined Blossom's.

"You're not a monster," Buttercup growled and her strong arms enclosed on both of them. "You, Leader Girl, are not and were not a monster."

Blossom only sobbed, pressing her face to Bubbles' shoulder. Frozen tears stung whatever exposed skin was there, but the blue puff couldn't seem to care. She stroked frozen hair instead and rested her head against hers.

Blue eyes met ferociously glowing green. At least the beast was at bay, but Buttercup was still taut as a bowstring. If Bubbles, _or Blossom_ , gave the word, she would shoot through the base, would shoot outside, and _hunt_. Blossom was sobbing that she had been told to destroy, but Aterex hadn't fought the _beast_. Even Bubbles knew the ferocity and danger when her sister let loose, let all inhibitions go and _fought_.

Buttercup could destroy too.

"But—!" Blossom sobbed. Her shoulders shook harder and both Bubbles and Buttercup pressed closer to her. "All those p-p-people!"

Bubbles gritted her teeth and pulled away from her sister. Cupping her cheeks, she forced those rose eyes to meet her own.

Her heart twisted at the shattered look they held.

"That _doesn't matter_!" she snapped and a sudden hush befell them. "That wasn't _you_! You were controlled, you were _drugged_! And there was too much evidence of energy attacks for it to be you alone!"

"The…The punks were…with me…" her sister shakily agreed.

"Exactly! And we've _fought_ those rip-offs!" Bubbles continued with a snarl. "We've seen how…how _ruthless_ and destructive they are! You alone could not have caused that massacre! You are _not_ a monster!"

"But—"

"No! No but's!" she growled. "You are not, were not, will never be a monster! You are my _sister_ and that, no matter what happened, will never change!"

Blossom stared at her, eyes wide, tears still leaking, but entirely shocked. Her mouth slowly dropped open. She blinked rapidly at her, as if she couldn't comprehend what she was saying. The despair began to ebb, a slow, small warmth worming through it.

The wind died. The air seemed brighter. Bubbles didn't dare move her eyes from her big sister's gaze, though, adamant that she realize how truthful she was. Nothing would change them being sisters. Not this massacre, not eight years, not anyone else's opinion. Bubbles had spent too long keeping a distance that she didn't even want to keep. She was _done_.

"…do you…mean that?" It wasn't Blossom's voice.

Bubbles spared a glance for her other sister, taking in Buttercup's own shock, before she gave one firm nod. The two of them would have to have a talk, but right now, Blossom needed them.

"We're the Powerpuff Girls," she said and Blossom sucked in a breath. She returned her eyes to hers. "And we're sisters. Those two things will never ever change! Whatever happens next, we-we'll get through…get through it t-t-together!"

Tears spilled from her own eyes and the emotions she had been suppressing for a long, long time burst out. Her own sobs shook her and she hugged Blossom again. Her sister reciprocated fiercely.

"Oh, _Bubbles_ , I'm s-sorry!" she sobbed.

"I missed you! I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!" Bubbles buried her face in her neck. "Everything…Everything sucked without you! I-I love you, B-B-Blossom!"

"I l-love you t-too!"

Again, strong arms enveloped them. Buttercup pressed her head to the two of theirs, her breath hitching.

"You two are gonna make me cry," she growled and her voice sounded thicker and rougher than usual. "And you're damn right! We'll get through this. The Powerpuff Girls are back together!"

"I've never…never stopped considering…myself a Powerpuff," Bubbles breathed. "I…I always knew y-you'd come back, Blossom!"

She heard Buttercup suck in a breath and her embrace tightened. Her middle sister nudged her head with hers.

"I'm s-sorry it took me so long," their big sister answered, squeezing her. She pulled away from them and she looked so much calmer than before. Her eyes still shown with tears, still looked too red, but there was a serenity there that had been missing. "I'm back, girls."

* * *

The living quarters were quiet and dark, the day-night cycle of the lights indicating that it was now night. To be precise, it was midnight, but Buttercup didn't care.

She sat in the stupid little garden, the little garden that was barely twenty feet square, and just...let her mind go. She was spent, tired, but her mind was rushing and she could still feel her beast in her veins.

Those aliens had made her sister kill. Had made her join in on a massacre that had even shocked the rebels. Blossom hadn't remembered much else besides that, though, but neither she nor Bubbles were going to try to get anything else out of her. Not with her shaky and trembling, close to suffering from hypothermia from her own ice.

They hadn't explained what had happened to the Professor or Boomer. They hadn't known how to soften the blow, how to explain that they wouldn't let anyone harm their sister for her involvement in that tragedy. They didn't know how they would react, either. The Professor was already so tired and everything about Blossom stressed him. This would have been too much.

And Boomer... Buttercup had threatened Boomer to keep quiet about what had transpired, no matter the confusion and worry on his face. The snarling beast under her skin helped with her threat, lighting her skin and eyes with emerald fire.

He hadn't argued.

They had spent the rest of the day in their apartment with Robin visiting to check on Blossom and only Buttercup or said nurse running out for food. Bubbles hadn't moved very far from Blossom's side, alternating between stroking their sister's hair and crying gently into her shoulder. It was almost unsettling the amount she was crying, much more so than she ever had when they were kids, but, well, she had been a steely bitch for a long time.

Guess it was time for the emotions to come out.

They hadn't talked yet, but, well, both had silently agreed to focus on Blossom. Blossom who still looked fragile, who curled up in her bunk and against Bubbles' side. She barely spoke to them, but they could feel the warmth of her happiness, the sour of her shame, and the faint burn of retribution. Or maybe that had been Bubbles. It was hard to tell now, now that Bubbles had stopped muting herself.

Something clinked, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she turned to find Mitch standing there. He held two bottles of semi clear liquid and a questioning look on his face.

He lifted one.

"How'd you sneak these in?" Buttercup asked, reaching for the offered bottle.

He snorted and took a seat next to her under the small, decorative tree. She had no idea what it was, but was amazed all the same that it was thriving underground.

"Please, everyone was so antsy about Blossom that no one thought to check if there was contraband moonshine," he said and uncorked the bottle. He took a swig. "Oof, still burns."

"Pansy." She took her own swig with a grin.

Their shoulders bumped.

"...so what happened earlier?" His voice was low, comforting.

Her fingers tensed on the bottle. She took another swig.

"I'm gonna fucking kill those aliens," she snarled. "Fucking rip Aterex's head off and wave it around like a God damn _flag_!"

"Uh, I knew that, but what's got you fired up?" Mitch pressed.

He looked remarkably unperturbed when she turned to him. Only his eyebrows lifted when she just glared. Well he had been there when she first let her monster out, so he of all people was used to it. 

Another swig, another snarl.

"Blossom remembered something."

"...that explains why both you and Bubbles dropped during training," he murmured. "The empathy thing."

"Yup," she muttered, popping the P. "And it was...it was horrible."

"...horrible?" he echoed, but the sound of stomping boots cut them both off.

Buttercup lifted her head and then tensed. She had the frame of mind to pass Mitch her bottle before she broke it and didn't take her eyes off Butch. With as much casualness she could, she rested her arms on her knees and kept her gaze level on him.

He looked haggard and pissed, his eyes faintly glowing in the dark. His shoulders were tense, tense in a way that didn't look right on him. He wasn't the type to worry, to bottle things up and scowl at every living thing. That was more a Brick thing.

He paused when he spotted them, probably noticing the glowing of her own eyes. Immediately, he changed course towards them.

He didn't even greet them. Just grabbed Mitch's bottle of moonshine and knocked half of it back.

They both raised their eyebrows.

"Rough day?" Buttercup muttered as he wiped his mouth.

"My brother is an ass," Butch responded before nodding appreciatively at the bottle. "Damn, I am so glad you snuck this shit in. Best shit this side of county line."

"What do those fucks over in Farmsville have that we don't?" Mitch sniffed. "That's a Mitchelson homebrew special!"

Raising an eyebrow, Butch just stared at him before he grinned and took another gulp. He belched and pointed dramatically at them.

"Hops."

Mitch rolled his eyes and took a gulp from Buttercup's bottle.

She frowned, but they had traded much worse than _spit_. Swiping it, she took a gulp herself, a large one like her counterpart, and belched as well.

"Gross," he remarked and she sniffed.

Placing a hand delicately over her chest, she tilted her chin up in the prissy way that Blossom used to do. "I am a _lady_."

"Buuullshit," both Butch and Mitch sang, the former taking a spot on her other side.

There wasn't much room between them, barely a breadth the size of her finger. She let her eyes drop to that gap, to that space, and took another swig. Strong as it was, it took a lot to make her tipsy, let alone drunk.

She had learned that the hard way.

"Surprised Brick let you off the leash," she commented, trying and failing to calm her beast at the thought of the red ruff.

They couldn't let him know about Seattle. She didn't know if they could tell anyone about that because that tragedy had shaken _everyone_. Brick, the Professor, Bubbles, Mojo. Buttercup remembered the stricken faces of soldiers, remembered the grave set of Brick's face and shoulders, the fire that burned in his eyes. She remembered Butch's uncharacteristic somberness after that, the way he seemed tenser than normal, the way he would return with more and more cuts and bruises from routine missions.

Boomer and Bubbles had gotten quieter, but they hadn't seen the city. Butch and Brick had. Buttercup could only wonder what they had seen. She had never left to check it out, too busy keeping the rebels from panicking and falling to pieces after that massacre.

A part of her hadn't wanted to see it anyway.

"Bossman's in his office. Probably not gonna sleep again, the motherfucker," Butch answered with a shrug. He took another drink. "...so what happened with Blossom?"

Buttercup stiffened.

"...what do you mean?" she muttered.

"Buttercup." That wasn't how he usually sounded. He didn't _do_ serious, but then the image of his face post the massacre flashed in her mind and she gritted her teeth. When it came down to it, he could be serious, couldn't he? "Boomer literally _texted_ me asking about Blossom today. What. Happened?"

She stared across the garden, down the hall that led to her apartment. A faint contentment echoed from there, a faint feeling of safety and rightness.

The complete opposite to the despair she had felt only hours ago. The complete opposite to wind and snow roaring in her ears. To desolation and pain freezing her insides.

She breathed deeply.

"...Blossom remembered something...bad," she said softly, not taking her eyes off the hallway. She swallowed. "We...didn't tell Boomer what it was. We didn't...We didn't even tell the Professor..."

Two shoulders bumped into hers. Her breath shook a little and she turned to Butch.

He stared back at her, eyes faintly glowing, but not from irritation. It was just their normal night vision. His face softened, worry creasing his forehead.

"What did she remember?" he murmured.

Her eyes hardened and she squared her shoulders. She met his gaze and leaned forward, letting her beast flicker up her arms and over her skin. Butch had never been scared of her, had never feared her like she had wanted him to, but damn it would she try now.

She would become whatever monster she needed to become to protect her sister.

"Promise me that you will _not_ tell Brick," she growled. "We'll...We'll tell him, but right now...Butch, _please_. Blossom doesn't _need_ that right now."

He stared back at her.

"All right."

That wasn't what she wanted.

She grabbed his collar and yanked him towards her. Their noses brushed as she got right up into his face. Vaguely, she heard Mitch hiss her name, but she needed the damn Rowdyruff to promise her.

"Promise me, Butch, or I _will_ castrate you," she snarled. "We _will_ tell Brick. But...not right now. Not when..."

She faltered and gritted her teeth. She let him go and leaned away. Her head pounded.

He took a breath and nodded.

"...I promise," he said in a voice that was too gentle for him.

Her lip trembled and she nodded sharply. 

"Good," she mumbled and turned away.

Her breath shook. She scrubbed her face. Blossom's crying, frozen face flashed behind her eyelids, that shivering, trembling form of her once proud sister. She shivered, the phantom chill of that blizzard biting her skin. An echo of that storm raged in her ears. Her fingers trembled, so she shoved the bottle of moonshine back into Mitch's hands.

She rubbed her arm to chase away that ghostly chill. Her skin felt dry.

"...Blossom...was at...Seattle," she finally whispered.

Mitch sucked in a sharp breath. Butch cursed.

"No, she-she wasn't," Mitch breathed.

Buttercup scoffed. "I wish. But...what she described..."

_"I destroyed...everything... Humans, aliens, I didn't distinguish... It was...a wasteland when we were done."_

She rubbed her face again.

"Buttercup," Mitch murmured and rubbed her shoulder.

"He told her to _destroy,_ " she breathed. "He told her to destroy and she _did_ because the fucking coward _drugged_ her! He drugged her and-and fucking-fucking _fuck_ , _I_ ' _m gonna fucking kill Aterex_!"

Her monster flared around her. Her lips pulled back in vicious snarl as she imagined what the so-called Great King looked like. Probably like any of the other fucking aliens. Living inkblots that fucking moved like some kind of rubber doll. Those large, blank eyes that still condescended everyone they gazed upon.

She would rip those eyes out first and then shove them down his throat before she cut off his head. Her fingers twitched for the violence, for the blood. 

"You'll have to get in fucking line."

That growl, so low and so _angry_ , startled her out of her own rage.

She turned and looked at Butch, at her counterpart who was leaning forward and clenching his own fists. Her skin prickled at the energy arching over his tense arms, the green sparks that danced up and down the fabric of his uniform. His eyes glowed that deep green, which almost took over his whole eyes, too similar to when Brick get angry. Maybe that was a Rowdyruff thing.

_Maybe it was a superhuman thing_.

He too was snarling, sharp teeth bared and his shoulders shaking from him repressing his power. Not that that did much, considering the sparks and arcs jumping up and down his body. Her own monster reacted to it, reacted in that way that they always had. No time spent together, no time getting used to each other, would ever calm the instinctive thrum in her blood and jolt through her limbs when his power leaked out like that.

And all because Aterex had tortured Blossom. All that anger, all that rage, because that fucking alien had drugged her sister and forced her to commit the greatest tragedy they had ever seen. Something swirled amidst her own anger as she stared at him.

A vicious grin curved up her lips. "Please _, bitch_ , you'll be second in line. Hell, I'll even let you hold 'im down when I cut off his fucking head."

Butch's eyes literally sparked, but his sneer became a smirk. He leaned a little closer to her, their faces a breath apart.

His sparks danced with her flames.

"We'll just have to see who gets to him first, huh, Butterbabe?" he hissed.

She snarled at him.

"All right, as hot as it is watching you two talk bloody nothings at each other _, chill_ ," Mitch spoke up. He had jumped off the planter apparently and stood a couple feet away. He pointed at them with the bottle of moonshine, eyebrows risen. "And what the fuck's with you, Butch? Since when we're you all protective of Bloss?"

Buttercup snorted as she leaned away from her counterpart. Her monster ebbed and heat gathered in her cheeks as she realized just how close she and Butch had been. She could still feel the twining of their power, of his sparks and her monster, and it felt…weird. Good weird, but weird all the same. She didn't really know _how_ to describe it.

She was just happy that he would be right there with her when they hunted down Aterex. Between the two of them, there was no way the aliens would be able to stand a chance.

"It's because this asshole has been training Blossom for the last month or so," she answered for him.

She shoved him with her elbow. Her arm tingled from the green arcs still running up and down his arms.

Butch rolled his shoulders and shoved her back. He sneered at her, rolled his eyes, and took one last swig of the moonshine.

Mitch just stared, looking even more surprised. "Seriously?"

"Benefit of a doubt, Mitchelson," Butch answered, wiping his mouth. "If me and my bros get one, then Blossy sure as hell gets one."

"I think you mean if _Mojo_ gets one," Buttercup muttered, but she let the frustration leave with a sigh. "Benefit of a doubt, huh? …you'd think Brick would remember that."

"You'd think, but the man is a stubborn ass," he mumbled, rolling the empty bottle between his hands. "You'd think a former Rowdyruff would remember that…"

"All right, hold up." Mitch held up his hands and Buttercup was so glad he had caught that too.

Boomer had said nearly the same thing just a month ago, hadn't he?

"Yeah, hold up," she agreed and leaned against his arm. "What's with the 'former Rowdyruff'?"

Butch's mouth flattened, his jaw clenching, before he blew out a loud breath. His face looked almost conflicted, eyebrows furrowed and eyes still glowing too brightly for night vision.

"…it was…part of getting people to trust us," he mumbled. "Rowdyruff had…too many bad connotations, Brick said. So…we stopped referring to ourselves that way. Which, I don't get, because…because that's what we _are_. You're the Powerpuffs and we're…we're the Rowdyruffs…" Abruptly, he looked up, looking towards her, and his expression turned troubled. "Unless you…you don't think of yourself as… I mean, Bubs hasn't…"

She had never seen him like that before, unsure, concerned. He…didn't look like that. He was cocky, aggressive, and just an idiot. Looking so lost didn't fit him.

Her fists clenched. She didn't like that expression on him. Just like she didn't like the same expression on Blossom's face.

Buttercup scoffed and tilted her nose up. She even flipped her hair because she needed to get some kind of smile out of him.

"Please, Butchy boy," she said haughtily. "I will forever and always be a Powerpuff Girl. All three of us will and, yes, that includes Bubbles."

She pointed at him as she said it, eyebrows raised, challenging.

He stared for a moment, still unsure, before a grin cracked the uncertainty. Immediately, her shoulders relaxed.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said and, damn it, that sincerity was even _weirder_. Then the grin turned mischievous and that was so much easier to handle. "So the ice bitch ain't so icy anymore?"

She snickered and shoved him.

Her chest felt warm, but in a different way from the warmth from her sisters. A warmth that…was a little similar to the warmth she used to get with Mitch, before stress and grief and the rebels smothered it.

She wasn't going to dwell on that.

"Oh, shut up!"

* * *

At five AM, the archives were dead, which was understandable. The main archivist, an old veteran named Petunia Paulsen, didn't arrive until around six AM and then Ms. Keane arrived at seven to prepare for the small class she taught. Bubbles still didn't like there being children so close to center of the alien empire, but they were mostly orphans of soldiers who had fallen in battle from the Townsville Branch. Her heart throbbed at that and she sighed softly, pausing in her perusal of the files from a year previous.

Putting up her armor had been harder than she thought now that she had sobbed her eyes out in Blossom's arms. She had spent the better part of the night curled together with her sister, sleeping in spurts because Blossom would shake or shiver occasionally in her own sleep and Bubbles wanted to prevent another blizzard. Their little apartment wouldn't be able to handle it, for one, and she wouldn't know how to explain it to Brick or the other lieutenants, for another. She yawned softly and shook the thought from her mind.

They would tell them (or, at the very least, tell the Professor and the Boys) about the Seattle Massacre in due time. She wanted Blossom to feel better, to accept that her sisters were with her now, before they did. As much as Buttercup didn't like it, they couldn't keep something like this a secret for long. It was too big, too important, and a major clue to figuring out the catalyst of Blossom's amnesia.

If the massacre wasn't the catalyst itself. Bubbles wouldn't be surprised if it were, honestly.

"Aha," she mumbled as her fingers danced over the file.

She pulled it out and immediately began to read over it.

While all of their files were electronic, most of the bigger events were also on paper. The Seattle Massacre was one such event, the file not nearly as thick as one would expect. Then again, the list of the dead didn’t go into nearly as much detail as the electronic copy. She was honestly glad for that because she didn't want to read into the details, read into the explanation of an energy burn on someone's chest and wonder if the energy had been pink.

Her fingers trembled a little. Her breath felt a little shallow and she stared at the paper, but saw a tear soaked face instead. Tears that sparkled with frost, rosy eyes that were bloodshot, and skin so cold that it could have belonged to a corpse.

A shiver shot down her spine and she shook her head.

That was _never_ going to be a way to think about her sister. It hadn't been when she was younger and it definitely wasn't now. Even if she had been deathly cold, even if Bubbles could still feel the sting of her frozen fingers against her skin.

"Now, why are you in the archives so early, lieutenant?"

She jumped at the voice, her feet literally leaving the ground in her surprise. Her only solace was that she made no noise, but she was still floating almost a foot above the ground. She turned, a little flustered, before pouting at the half-smile that she received.

"I could ask you the same thing, general," she huffed and landed. She frowned as she took in Brick's face, zeroing in on the dark circles under his eyes and the tension that lined them. "Did you sleep last night?"

He waved her off.

"I have too much to do," he responded, stepping up to the cabinet next to her. He immediately began shuffling through the files there, even as she continued to stare at him with a frown. "…three hours."

"You can't survive on _three_ hours of sleep, Brick!" she snapped.

"I have people I need to coordinate, there's everything to do with the Big Strike, and, of course, dealing with those _fucking idiots_ who think I don't deserve to be general," he growled back, eyes narrowing and glowing at the papers. "Plus, your _sister._ "

"Which one?" she couldn't help asking before she could stop herself.

He paused, an eyebrow lifting as he turned to her.

"Does it matter?" he asked and turned back to his searching. He hummed and lifted a file. "Between Buttercup and Blossom, my plans have been severely derailed. Not to mention _Mojo_."

"Yes, well, no one predicted—" She blinked owlishly. "What did you…?"

Brick had turned away, nose already deep in his file. She hadn't caught the name on it, but she honestly didn't care.

Before he could take more than a couple steps, she was grabbing his arm and tugging him back towards her. He really was sleep deprived because such a tug shouldn't have made him stumble. Then again, she might have used too much strength. She really hadn't been paying attention in her haste to keep him from leaving.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried, steadying him before she pointed a finger in his face. "But repeat what you just said!"

"Not to mention Mojo?" His smile told her that he knew exactly what she meant and he was _ignoring her_.

She stomped her foot in a show of juvenile frustration, something she hadn't done in a _long_ time. She ignored his surprised look.

"Oh! You know exactly what I mean, Brick Jojo!" she huffed, but a smile broke across her face. "You said Blossom's name!"

Brick shrugged and returned his attention to his file. A faint red tint to his cheeks told more than his voice did.

"You said that I should start acclimating myself to her," he explained as he flipped a page. "Saying her name is just a baby step, of course, and you are very well adept with interpersonal relationships so I suppose I should listen to you, Lieutenant Utonium."

Bubbles' smile dropped as she remembered her relationship with Buttercup. They may have taken some kind of step towards reconciliation, but they were nowhere near the closeness they once had. However, he had a point: baby steps.

Setting their differences aside to help their big sister was a step. Calling herself, calling all three of them, a Powerpuff Girl was an even bigger one.

"Well, I'm proud of you," she told him and looked down at her own file. Her mouth twisted as she looked over the report. "…it's something, at least."

The descriptions she read rang with Blossom's voice. A wasteland burnt by energy blasts, by laser beams, by heat vision. Bodies strewn all over, a mixture of human and alien. Burned and maimed. Some bodies only recognizable because of dental records.

Complete destruction.

_"He told me to destroy…and I…"_

Her grip tightened on the paper, crinkling it.

Another hand eased it from her grip. Her brain sluggishly remembered that she didn't want him to know yet, but she was too mired in the memory of Blossom's despair, of Buttercup's rage, of her own shock.

"The Seattle Massacre?"

His voice was too calm, too low, and she stiffened.

Her wide eyes snapped up to his. She hoped she didn't visibly swallow. "The anniversary is soon. I…I just remembered the other day."

Red eyes stared at her, not glowing, but tired and too shrewd for her liking. She had always thought Boomer to be the most observant, but there were times where Brick just seemed to _know_ things. If she didn't know any better, she would almost say he was the one with telepathy.

Those eyes dropped to the file. His shoulders sunk as he read, the frown more pronounced, the tension around his eyes tightening. He sighed deeply and that exhale alone sounded defeated.

"Lieutenant Kenny mentioned you and Buttercup collapsed yesterday during training," he began and Bubbles stiffened again. "He said that you two disappeared not soon afterwards and never returned to training. I also received a report from Mr. Sglue about a...situation with the simulator. Did something happen?"

She took a breath.

When they were children, when she and her sisters had to ever lie, Bubbles had been the one to do it. Blossom couldn't lie herself out of a paper bag, constantly getting her stories mixed up or just making things worse. Buttercup could lie, but she needed time to practice, otherwise she flailed on her words when put on the spot.

Bubbles, on the other hand, had wanted to be an actress when she was seven and what was acting, but creative lying? Besides, no one expected the sweetest Powerpuff to be able to lie to your face with a smile. It was a skill she kept close, a skill she used when everyone underestimated her.

She just hoped that Brick was too tired to read her like a book. If her hypnosis worked on him, she would have used that, but they had long since discovered that he was the only one immune to it.

"Blossom remembered something," she began. Every good lie had a kernel of truth, after all. "There were a lot of emotions coming through our empathetic link, but…whatever she remembered, she didn't want to talk about it."

He lifted his eyes and stared at her. She didn't dare look away.

"…and you happened to remember about the Seattle Massacre at the same time?" he asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"Before that, actually," she lied smoothly. "Yesterday morning, I was thinking that we're almost halfway through September. You planned the Big Strike for December, since it will be colder then. Like playing telephone. I just remembered the massacre and I…just wanted to reacquaint myself with the file."

His face was blank, even the tension lines gone as he searched her expression. He let his eyes drop back down to the papers.

His voice was low, worried, when he next spoke. "…haven't you already memorized this, Bubbles?"

Her eyes widened.

She swallowed again, clenching her fists to control the tremor she felt begin to shake them.

She did have it memorized. She had read the report so many times in the aftermath of that horrible day, memorizing each name and cause of death. She had tucked away every eyewitness report into her heart, able to quote the ones that she had deemed most important: Brick, Butch, and Lieutenant Hernandez. Butch's report had been short and simple because he didn't sugarcoat and he didn't hide details. Brick's and Lieutenant Hernandez's had been longer, but had the same details within them. They had found a wasteland and they had found death.

Bubbles may not have a photographic memory like Brick or Blossom, but this she would always remember. All the deaths from the beginning of the invasion to now, particularly of those who had died on missions she had supervised. Particularly those who had died during the Seattle Massacre, now that she suspected that this was the catalyst.

The catalyst that had broken her sister.

Her eyes also dropped to the papers. Memorizing deaths didn't mean she had memorized exact details. The online file had more information than the paper one, but she had to feel the weight of the document in her hands. Paper was nothing to them, but this file was as heavy as any mountain.

"Memories aren’t always clear," she answered finally and took the file back. She looked up at him then and couldn't read his expression. "Please get some rest, Brick. We need you in top form most of all."

Nodding her head, she left the archives then with the weight of the world in her hands.

* * *

The bridge between Townsville and Citiesville and its surrounding area had long since been called a military exclusion zone. No one was supposed to get within four blocks of the area due to just how open it was to the sky. Any aliens flying over could spot people on foot and most cars that the Resistance had salvaged were only used on very rare occasions when they needed to travel between bases. There was no reason to cross the bridge until the final battle anyway.

…whenever that damn upstart of a general would call it.

Lieutenant Trey Torino had not enjoyed learning that some superpowered brat was the new general of the West Coast Resistance. Sure, the kid had to correspond with the other generals around the globe, but for the most part, everyone followed his word. What did some kid who couldn't even drink yet know? (Though drinking laws and such had gotten supremely lax following the apocalypse. What did anyone care anymore if some sixteen-year-old drank booze? _Everyone_ drank at this point.) He had just appeared out of nowhere, overtaking other more experienced lieutenants and had stolen that role.

Townsville had always been weird. A kid as a general was just the cherry on top of everything else in this hellhole. The fact that the kid also had _superpowers_ didn't help, either.

Not only did Torino have to listen to a damn kid, but he had to listen to a _freak_ as well. He would admit he was one of the few who thought that superheroes and their ilk could all disappear. The crazy villains only showed up because the heroes rose against them. Hell, these damn aliens probably showed up because of the God damn Powerpuff Girls! If those three girls hadn't started traipsing around with their freakish powers, maybe they wouldn't be in a warzone.

Torino was sick of living like this. He had been a veteran once, honorably discharged after serving his years, and here he was again. Back in a war.

The brat said he had a plain, had said to call back their units, keep them close, and await orders, but he didn't think so. That kid had no idea what he was doing.

That was why Torino stood with his own unit on the bridge. In the MEZ. He would prove to the damn kid that he knew nothing and should step down as general. He had read the reports. The alien forces had appeared haphazard lately, confused and agitated. They may react with killing precision, but they were _reactionary._ He didn't know why that was, but it was the perfect time to exploit them while they were disjointed.

"Let's go!" he called and waved for them to start crossing.

Townsville was the heart of the empire, after all. Take out the heart and everything else fails.

Crossing the bridge proved so easy it was disconcerting. They moved among the abandoned cars, long rusted and beginning to overgrow with whatever kind of plants survived out here. The fact that any plants grew on the bridge was disturbing. How quickly nature tore down man's pride.

Torino didn't let unease hinder him, of course, signaling for scouts to go before them as they made their way into Townsville. The main body of the unit moved slowly into the metropolis, vying for cover over the openness of the bridge. The sound of gulls faded the farther they walked into the empty streets. Any birds that would roost in the city had long since fled from a combination of human influence and the aliens themselves, so the air was empty of birdsong. It was empty of all kind of noise, save their own.

The scouts returned and reported nothing. There were no aliens doing a patrol, no scavengers, and no ships lazing in the sky. They were clear.

Giving a sharp nod, the old lieutenant waved them forward, deeper into Townsville.

He had used to venture to the city when he was younger, when the city was alive and its buildings didn't appear grief-stricken. It had been a great city, despite its misfortune. Sky-high crime rates, monster every other week, then _mutants_ and _freaks_ littering its streets. Despite it all, he remembered the city trying to keep its chin up, to keep a smile on its people's faces among the chaos. It had glittered, even with broken glass and bruised heart.

And now it was a shell.

Citiesville wasn't better, but Citiesville had always had a grayer outlook than Townsville. Suffering from people trying to escape the chaos, from criminals and felons taking shelter there to lie low. It hadn't been the best city, but it had been home.

The twin cities stood vacant, quiet, no bustle, no hustle. Their populace decimated, but only one had a cancer in its heart.

And they were the doctors here to cut it out.

Torino lifted his chin and strode forward, confident now that they had no opposition. This was exactly why that kid shouldn't be a general. Pulling back their soldiers _from here_? There was nothing here!

Something green flashed in the corner of his eye.

He turned just as blood sprayed across his face.

The screams came next.

It was one of _them_. Those superpowered sluts that sided with the aliens. The ones that looked like those freaks, those Powerpuff Girls, but were…wrong.

The woman, monster, _thing_ , pushed back her shaggy hair with a bloody hand. Blood trickled down her face, which she wiped with a flick of her tongue. Glowing emeralds met his eyes.

Torino brought up his gun.

She grinned.

"You done fucked up," she rasped. Glittering scythes appeared in her hands. "Where's Blossom?"

He leveled the gun. "Who?"

Her eyelids lowered and she frowned in disappointment. Her scythes spun.

"Not you shits, huh? Oh well, you're just pests anyway." Her grin was back, bigger than humanly possible with sharp teeth like a shark. "Goodbye, bugs."

Torino emptied his gun, but she didn't react. She just laughed loudly, maniacally, and dived into his men. The last thing he saw was a wicked grin above him before something cold sliced through his neck.


	13. Chapter 12: Cleave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you are all excited for this because I am excited to share this chapter! :D
> 
> And sorry for the slow updates. I am admittedly not the fastest writer and life has been kicking my butt (between work and the pandemic, it is very stressful right now). Hopefully, this chapter will make up for the wait as it is currently the longest chapter so far 😅
> 
> Also, because I'm crazy, I've also started going back and revamping the older chapters (1 through 8) by fixing the POV and maaay have added a new scene or two. Make sure to check that out when you get a chance! :)
> 
> Please enjoy!

She sat panting among broken furniture, broken glass and metal, and every other breakable thing in this stupid room. Tapestries lay torn and burned, mixed with the remains of her bed and every other piece of furniture she could get her hands on. Feathers still fluttered through the air from the many pillows that had occupied its surface. Broken wood and twisted metal impaled some as sacrifices to her rage. Torn carcasses littered the floor from where most of the feathers had flew.

She shoved her hands into glass and metal and wood, but the detritus just crumbled in her hands. Glass became dust, metal twisted and polished, wood to chips. Her fingers curled, muscles and bones shaking from the pressure. Her breath hissed from her snarl.

That was right. She was invincible. She was made of something more, something better. Better than those sheep, those _humans_. Better even than the Narcassians, but she knew not to speak that aloud.

Aterex was stronger, _faster_. He was king for a reason, a deadly, potent reason. One word against his—and his legion's—superiority would mean severe punishment. His mood had gotten fouler and fouler the more months passed without _her_ , after all.

She snarled and glared at the shattered mirror before her. Only a few large shards remained, enough for her to see a decent amount of her reflection. Enough to see her own reflection and almost mistake it for another.

 _Another with lighter hair and lighter eyes, with a dazed and glazed expression because they had to ply her with drugs for her to obey_.

At least Berserk knew she was on the winning side. At least she didn't need a drug to obey. The Narcassians let her and her sisters destroy, let them fight, so what more could they ask for? There really wasn't much…except for maybe some recognition once in a while.

"Yeesh! What a mess!"

The door hissed shut as her creator stepped through. She glanced at him in the mirror, scowling at his green countenance, at the smarmy grin he gave her back. His head tilted as he glanced around with an unperturbed look. Glass crunched under his clawed feet. 

"What do you want?" she snapped, clenching her fists. A piece of metal warped in her palm. "I'm not in the mood."

"Aw, but _sweetie_ , can't a _father_ check on his _daughter_?" Hardly cooed as he made his way over to her in that offputtingly jerky way he moved. "…especially after that tantrum."

Berserk's hands hurt from how hard she squeezed them. The metal bit into her palm, but it was more a discomfort than pain.

They couldn't _find_ her. The _Powerpuff_. The _little pet._

Months. They had been searching for months and _nothing_. The only thing they had to show about it was fragments of permafrost, from a wall of ice that cut her off from one of those damn _boys_. She didn't remember or care what they called themselves, but they were annoying for the same reason that _she_ had been annoying. They shared all the same powers that she and her sisters did, that _the pet_ did. The only difference being that they were boys.

And the pet had protected one of them.

Those rats had her. It made the most sense because where else would pretty little Blossom run to? She would run to the other Powerpuffs and their little boy toys. She would run to them because she was a fool who didn’t understand the order of things. Every human claimed she was so, so smart, but if she was, she would have sided with the Narcassians instead of letting the aliens cage her. Who ruled this planet? It certainly wasn't the human sheep.

So what if Berserk had lost it with Brute? Brute could annihilate a whole unit of humans by herself, but they couldn't find one damn superpowered _pet_ even when they knew who had her? Brute had been so nonchalant, so _uncaring_. Losing Blossom reflected badly on _all_ of them since they had been told to watch her after Seattle, which was annoying as all hell. It wasn't their fault the pretty little doll had become catatonic after a glorious spree of destruction. A little blood got on her hands and suddenly she was comatose.

What a weakling.

Not that Aterex saw it that way. He only saw _their_ failure to keep her contained. _Their_ failure to wait on her hand and foot, even when they were every inch equal. Didn't Berserk even _look_ like her?

She snarled at the mirror. Yes, she did look like the pretty little pet, didn't she?

"I understand my failure, _Hardly_ ," she snapped. Her shoulders stiffened as he loomed over her. "We'll get Blossom back from those vermin."

"I know, sweetie," he assured, kneeling behind her and grabbing her shoulders.

Her skin crawled at his slow massage. She tried shrugging him off, but his claws dug into her skin. Her lip twitched, but one scowl into the mirror had him loosening his grip.

She rolled the warped metal between her hands. Her eyes bored into her reflection, the cracked reflection that only showed bits of her.

Shards of her

"I don't get _why_ we need her, though," she muttered. "I'm more than enough to take over for her, aren't I? We don't need some drugged up pet."

"Oh, of course, sweetheart, but you know Aterex," Hardly crooned. He waved a hand idly and Berserk could breathe without both of his hands on her. "Blossom is his _prize_ , after all. He _loves_ to show off."

"Fat lot that did him," she grumbled. Again, her fingers curled around the metal, wishing it to heat up or freeze, but nothing happened save it warming to her body temperature. "I can do anything she can do."

"Well, you don't have ice—"

Something viscous and toxic shot down her throat.

She was on her feet before she knew it, her creator shoved to the side as she glared down at him. She towered over him, fingers twitching and heat gathering in her eyes.

The metal fell with a dull thud.

"And you know how the Narcassians feel about _that_!" she shouted. "So what if I don't! I am more than capable of taking her place! I am her _equal_!"

Power sparked up and down her arms. Magenta lightning sizzled in the air as she glared.

Hardly just chuckled and stood. He tilted his head like some kind of creepy lizard and patted her shoulder.

Her nose wrinkled.

"Of course, you are," he purred, placing a clawed hand over his chest. "That's what I made you to be." Despite herself, Berserk averted her gaze to the ruined mirror. The sight of her and her monster of a creator turned her stomach for some reason. "After all, you're her counterpart."

He squeezed her shoulder with a razor sharp smile. It set her teeth on edge.

She couldn't bring herself to share the smile, a snarl curling up her lip. If they were counterparts, that meant they were supposed to be evenly matched, that anything _Blossom_ could do, _Berserk_ could do. That Berserk could take the dumb pet's place when Aterex needed a beacon to reel the sheep in. If they gave her the chance, she could do that. They were equals. They were _counterparts_.

Anything Blossom could do, she could do. As if Berserk would ever admit that the stupid prize pony was better than she was! If anything, she was the better one because she knew who the winner was here. Blossom didn't know what she was doing. She had to be drugged. She had to be contained, to be watched. She…She was _weak_.

Some…counterpart…

In the light of the tattered room, Berserk's eyes looked almost…red. She swallowed as something constricted in her throat.

Earth wasn't really the opposite of ice, though, was it? Sure, stone could crush ice and ice could break apart stone, but...no one wrote stories or songs about ice and earth. No ballads, no poems, no queasy little sayings.

Ice and _fire_ , on the other hand…

Her knuckles screamed from the tension.

Red eyes flashed over her magenta ones. Red eyes set in a furious face, flames spilling from snarling lips. Flames that curled around his body, cloaked every inch in hellfire so hot it began to melt the very stones she threw at him.

No, earth wasn't really ice's equal at all.

* * *

Butch would admit that he didn't spend much time in the library. Any kind of basic school stuff, Brick had shoved a workbook into his hands and told him to finish it. Then the aliens had invaded and, well, Butch had dived into military training and fighting and protecting people so things like schoolwork and education had gotten pushed to the side. There was, of course, fundamentals that Lieutenant Hernandez and General Portman had forced him and his brothers to learn, but Butch had no clue where he would be if he were in school. He knew the essentials, anyway: how to survive, how to kick alien butt, and how to piss his brother off when he was being a complete _asshat_.

Besides, sitting still wasn't his style, so reading was absolutely boring for him if it wasn't a manual for some kind of weapon or the rare comic book. Even though the Professor and Ms. Keane both insisted there were books out there that would grab his attention, he didn't have the luxury of time to find them. They were in a war, after all, and as a sergeant, he had other things to do that didn't involve sitting still.

Blossom liked reading, though. Maybe he would ask her if she had a recommendation. Considering he was now his brother's personal gopher, still on probation even after a week and two days, he had the time to sit around and _read._

Brick was being ridiculous. Blossom, of all people, deserved that damn benefit of a doubt, but here they were, both being punished because Brick couldn't get his head out of his ass, was paranoid beyond belief, and refused to fucking listen.

"Don't burn the library down," Brick had hissed at him when they arrived at the library just a few minutes ago. He had then given Ms. Keane and her class as friendly of a look as he could before disappearing into the archives.

It seemed like he was spending a lot of time in the archives, his office, or the communications hub nowadays. And, of course, being _Brick_ , he didn't share a damn thing with either of his brothers.

When Butch had a rare moment where he wasn't stuck with his older brother, he had asked Boomer if he knew anything about what Brick was doing. Turned out, Boomer didn't know either, aside from suggesting it might be about the Big Strike. Yeah, the Big Strike that they knew _shit_ about because Brick was playing his cards awfully close to his chest. Even if he asked Bubbles, it wasn't like she would tell him, anyway.

Well, she had become…different after the death of Emmons and, as of the past couple of days, she had changed. Usually, or what had become their usual, she would nod her greeting to him before launching into whatever nonsense she had for Brick. The past couple of days, she had actually asked him— _Butch_ —how he was doing and _chatted_ with him before launching into her nonsense. It was almost unnerving, but she still had that icy exterior around everyone else and she still had her clipped tone with Buttercup so it wasn't as if it was a huge change. All the same, it was unnerving.

Then there was Buttercup's own interactions with her and...

…and then he remembered that night.

_"Blossom…was at…Seattle."_

Buttercup's voice rang in his ears, soft and hesitant like she never was, and his fists began to tremble.

Blossom had been at _Seattle_. _Seattle_ of all battles. The scarred earth flashed before his eyes, the decimated buildings and ruined streets, _the bodies._

Earth torn and ravaged with mutilated and burnt bodies littering every direction. Human bodies, alien bodies. He could still smell them. Smell charred flesh and pools of blood and death. Death smelled sickly sweet, like some cheap ass perfume, and it turned his stomach. He gritted his teeth to keep the bile down and ran his hands through his hair.

His breathing picked up. His stomach rolled. His heart raced with adrenaline. His fingers knotted in his hair and _tugged_. He tugged once, twice, before his racing heart allowed him to count to ten. His count stuttered, but another tug would bring him back. The counting grounded him, allowed his breathing to ease with each number, but he continued to tremble.

He didn't know enough about the city, but almost a quarter had been leveled in that battle. All three Powerpunks and Blossom? Four superhumans, even if three were subpar? He and Buttercup had caused a lot of destruction alone when they were kids. As adults?

That city hadn't stood a chance.

Their soldiers hadn't either.

The ground had been stained, stained red, purple, and black. Human and alien— _Narcassian—_ bodies had littered the ground, strewn throughout the destruction like some kid throwing a tantrum. He had seen so many energy burns, so much evidence of superhuman involvement, and part of that involvement had been…Blossom.

Butch stared without seeing the books. He tugged his hair again and grimaced.

Buttercup's snarling echoed in his mind.

_"I'm gonna fucking kill Aterex!"_

She really would have to get in line. His hands trembled as he rubbed his face, feeling his own snarl. He was going to _bathe_ in that bastard's blood, effects be damned. To turn _Blossom_ of all people into the trembling mess he had seen? To turn someone who could stand toe to toe with _Brick_ into a quivering, shaking mess who couldn't _remember_ anything? That bastard was going to _pay_.

Buttercup may have her beast, but Butch was the _Baron of Berserk_. The two of them combined would be more than enough to level that fucking eyesore in the center of Townsville.

He paused in his angry pacing, clenching shaking hands and taking a breath. He needed to calm down. His powers were already leaking out of him, arcs of green lightning shooting up and down his arms. Not to mention the tremble that accompanied it, the same tremble from when he was kid. The one he would get whenever Buttercup would come soaring after him, the one that preceded a good fight.

The one that told him he had too much pent up energy and he needed to get it out.

He needed to _destroy._

As strong and fast as he was, he wouldn't deny that Aterex would put up a fight. Even with Buttercup, it wouldn't be an easy kill. There was a reason why there contingency plan for Aterex showing up on the field was called "Worst Case Scenario".

Worth it, though, for what that bastard did.

Rubbing his face, Butch took deep breaths until the arcs faded. The tremble didn't, but he hadn't been able to extend any kind of energy as of late. Brick was being exceptionally asshole-ish by forbidding him from using the simulator unless _he_ was also present. Since Brick hadn't set foot in either the training room or the Professor's lab the whole damn week, Butch had no doubt that this was just further punishment and his brother was a fucking asshole.

With a grumble, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the main area of the library. Maybe his royal pain in the ass was fucking done with whatever he was doing.

There was no stoic redhead waiting for him.

There was, however, a tiny redhead with pigtails and big blue eyes looking nervously at him. She rocked on her heels when he stepped out of the stacks.

"Um, M-Mister Butch?" she called and he made a face.

"You know you don't have to call me that," he remarked, kneeling down on one knee in front of her. His height (plus just about everything else) tended to intimidate the kids. "What's up, Faith?"

She produced a picture from behind her back.

His breath caught.

A crudely drawn picture of what was definitely Blossom greeted him. It had her bow and everything, a pink dress similar to what she wore as a child covering up the stick arms and legs. Next to her stood what he guessed was Buttercup and Bubbles, from the blonde hair on the right one and the scowl on the left. Scrawled in that child's writing underneath the picture read, "I trust you, Miss Blossom".

Slowly, aware that his hand was still shaking, he took the paper.

"Um, could you…could you give it to," and she lowered her voice as she leaned towards him, "Miss Blossom for me? I-I saw her go upstairs with M-Mister Boomer and some soldiers earlier."

Butch swallowed. It took everything in him to lift his eyes from the drawing.

"Yeah… Yeah, I can do that, Faith. No problem," he murmured.

He wasn't sure he managed a smile, but Faith beamed all the same. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. 

"Thank you, Mister Butch!"

"Just…Just Butch…"

Any trembling disappeared with that little hug. He gently patted her back, but glared into the distance. The vow to turn Aterex into a bloody pulp doubled.

Finding Blossom to the deliver Faith's gift proved easier than any kind of delivery mission he ever had done. All he had to do was call out to her mentally and she projected a series of images to him that led him up the stairs to the second floor, to the far back corner where two screens displaying tranquil nature scenes took up part of the walls around a little sitting area. There were large beanbag cushions, a soft rainbow rug, and a lot of what was very clearly children's books in the waist-high bookshelves.

Butch paused at the sight that greeted him when he found her.

Blossom was sitting on one of the cushions, almost cocooned by the others that had been piled around her. On either side of her was her sisters, Buttercup with her eyes closed and Bubbles doing something on her tablet. Hanout and the soldier of the day stood on either side of the children's area, both of whom stood at attention at his approach. Hanout shot a worried look towards Boomer and cleared his throat softly.

His brother sat in the rocking chair in one corner of the rainbow rug with a book on his lap. He lifted his eyes, looking bored before they widened, and he stiffened. The book fell to the floor as he shot to his feet.

"Brick's in the archives," Butch announced, holding up a hand. "At ease, Boom."

"Oh, good," Boomer mumbled and flopped back into the chair. He almost upended himself before he caught his balance. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, the puppy's here?" Buttercup muttered, not opening her eyes or moving at all from her position plastered to Blossom's side.

Bubbles made a noncommittal noise, but a smile flickered on her face when she looked up. He didn't even hide his surprise at that. He knew she had changed a lot over the years, the change from the teary and lost girl he had seen that fateful day to the cold woman he had gotten used to still making grimace whenever he thought about it, but seeing her all cuddled up with Blossom, and technically Buttercup, made his chest and stomach feel weird. There was something nostalgic about it, seeing them all curled together like that.

Something warm and gooey filled his insides up, something that made him misty-eyed. There was just something _right_ about seeing the three of them like that.

Clearing his throat, because _damn it_ he was a fucking Rowdyruff, he said, "Got a present for you, Blossy."

Blossom looked up curiously, leaning forward as much as she could with her sisters squished to her sides. She placed her book down just as Buttercup's eyes opened suspiciously at him. Bubbles also looked cautious, lowering her tablet to her lap as he moved closer.

"Brick finally get his head outta his ass?" Buttercup grumbled, but her glare darkened at his grimace. "Oh, of course not."

"Brick's stubborn," Butch muttered and held out Faith's drawing. "I think you have an admirer."

"Admirer?" Blossom echoed, taking the picture. Her eyes widened.

Red spilled onto her cheeks at the same time tears filled her eyes. He sent her the image of Faith, of the little girl looking shyly up at him and asking him to send her gift along. The tears overflowed and she covered her mouth to stifle her hiccup.

Bubbles and Buttercup were immediately at attention, rising up like a pair of cobras to see what had upset their sister. Buttercup even looked thunderous until her eyes landed on the drawing. She froze, stunned, before her entire demeanor softened. A small smile curved up her lips and she leaned into Blossom, throwing her arm around her shoulders.

Bubbles wasn't even bothered when she accidentally hit her. She just touched the edge of the paper, her own eyes misty. She too leaned against Blossom, laying her head on her shoulder, just over Buttercup's hand.

"Faith drew this?" she murmured.

"Yup." Butch shrugged. "She didn't say much, though. Just wanted me to deliver it to ya."

"I've…seen her watch me sometimes," Blossom whispered. Her fingers hovered over the paper before she pressed them to her smiling lips. "She always has a smile for me."

"Even kids can see Brick is being an ass," Buttercup remarked.

"…there's a little boy who doesn't like me," Blossom continued, but her smile didn't falter. "He has a red hat."

"Ashton," Bubbles told her. "He _loves_ Brick. He's like a little fan. Wants to be a general and everything."

"Not a Rowdyruff?" Buttercup teased, her eyes flickering up to him.

Butch lifted his mouth in half of a smile, but his eyes darted over to Boomer.

His brother was frowning down at his fists. Pieces of his hair fell into his face, but Butch knew those furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. It was a look all three of them were good at, the look of rebellion and of distaste. His knuckles were white.

The longer Butch stared, the more the air felt charged. The tremble returned to his hands.

Boomer sighed after a long moment, lifting his head and his expression smoothed in favor of a smile. He looked as pleasant as a sunny day in summer, but Butch knew his brother. He knew those hard eyes. His fists hadn't loosened.

The air smelled faintly of ozone.

"I don't think Ashton knows we were called that," Boomer explained pleasantly. "He's only…six? And we stopped calling ourselves…Rowdyruff…when the Resistance started, so a year before he was even born."

Blossom frowned. Her eyes flashed, but she didn't say anything. Hers and Butch's gazes met, but he couldn't help averting his eyes. That shrewd look reminded him too much of Brick, that same intensity whenever he wanted an answer. He flexed his fingers.

He let himself remember that day long ago, that day when they were young and still reeling from the invasion. The three of them had had to deal with suspicion, even with the Professor putting his neck out for them, and Brick finally had decided that they would no longer be the "Rowdyruff Boys". A name with bad connotations. A name in opposition with the Powerpuff Girls.

A name that had tied them together.

Blossom's expression darkened.

Bubbles closed her eyes with a breath.

"Don't," she spoke up, her own wet eyes sparking when she opened them. "You…don't have to give up that name."

"The Rowdyruff Boys were villains who beat you three up," Boomer responded, his voice tight. He frowned down at his lap. "The Rowdyruff Boys aren't anymore. We're just…soldiers."

"No. As long as _one_ of us keeps the name, the Rowdyruff Boys live on," Butch corrected. He crossed his arms at Boomer's blank expression and lifted his chin. "I am and will always be a fucking Rowdyruff Boy."

"Y'know, it wasn't a _soldier_ who helped us out that day," Buttercup spoke up nonchalantly before Boomer could speak. Butch didn’t risk moving his gaze from him, whose face was slowly pinching with anger. "It was the _Rowdyruff Boys_ who helped us out."

Thunder flashed across his brother's face. Electricity crackled up and down his arms and over his shoulders, so much more so than their energy just leaking out. His hair began to fluff from the static, coming out of the careful coif he styled every morning. His eyes glowed as he glared at the Girls.

Butch flicked his wrist and a shield appeared between them. Those sparking eyes snapped to him.

"Careful, Boom," he growled. "Big Bro's just downstairs."

His brother's eyes narrowed.

"And do you fucking care, Butch? Go be the villain that that name implies!" he snarled.

Butch snarled back, baring his teeth. Boomer returned the gesture, his sharp canines catching the fluorescent lights. 

One of them, probably both of them, growled.

"Neither of you are villains." The voice was calm and firm. Bubbles stepped between the two with that steely look of hers. The only difference was the sad look in her eyes. "Whether you choose to keep the Rowdyruff name is up to you, but I think you've all proven that you three aren't villains anymore."

She looked between them, eyes catching Butch's before turning her gaze to Boomer. His eyes significantly softened and his posture relaxed at whatever expression she was making. He took a breath and looked away.

His shoulders sunk.

"…what about you, Bubbles?" he muttered, finally looking back at her. "You haven't called yourself a Powerpuff Girl in a while."

"I know," she answered. Her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. "But I am a Powerpuff Girl. I always will be a Powerpuff Girl. I'm not denying it any longer."

Boomer's eyes tightened, but a weird expression crossed his face. It was gone too fast for Butch to decipher it, though. He sighed and rubbed his neck.

"…I'm glad for you," he mumbled, looking away again.

She hesitated before she lifted a hand towards him. Her step forward was small. Her hand twitched and dropped.

Boomer's hands knotted together. His leg began to bounce.

_"Butch, Brick is looking for you."_

Butch jumped at the voice, before realizing that he hadn't heard it. Grimacing, he turned to Blossom, who looked less teary and more contemplative. She inclined her head to him before nodding towards the two blonds.

She would deal with them.

Well, her and Buttercup, who was sitting up with a faint grumble. She looked nonplused, arms crossed as she took in the scene before her. Hanout had moved closer as well, giving up his guard duty to appease whatever was going on.

Butch really didn't get whatever was going on between Boomer and Bubbles. Boomer had always had a crush on her, ever since the Professor had taken them in, but Bubbles had shut out just about everyone after what Buttercup had shouted at her. Well, everyone besides Brick, but that was…

He contemplated Blossom as she stared between their siblings, her eyes darting from Bubbles to Boomer. Her head tilted a little, eyes narrowing. Both of their siblings stiffened, Boomer's cheeks reddening as he turned and pouted at her. Bubbles mimicked his movement.

Yeah, that was because of something else other than romantic feelings.

* * *

The gun felt strangely light in her hands, but, then again, Buttercup could lift a mountain, couldn't she? Of course, something like this would be light as a feather despite the horror it could cause. She turned the weapon over and over, taking in its form and parts, eyes darting between it and the handy cheat sheet Lieutenant Kenny had handed her. Bubbles sat across from her, eyes darting between her tablet and her. Her sister had already showed her once how to dismantle and put the gun together, but Buttercup really didn't see the point.

She could crush this thing like paper if she really wanted to. She could blast someone faster than a bullet with her energy beams. Her whole _body_ was a weapon. She didn't need to know how to dismantle a gun.

Nevertheless, she began the process with only a faint frown, eyes darting between her hands and the paper. The image of Blossom and her entourage flashed through her mind as she worked, reminding her just why she had joined the Resistance in the first place.

Reminding her why she had joined all those years ago.

Her mouth flattened.

She had wanted to talk to Bubbles about her little…thing with Boomer two days ago, the weird standoff they had, and the whole Rowdyruff thing. Clearly, Bubbles knew about it, Hanout or Soldier of the Day hadn't been surprised either, but Buttercup hadn't known. Butch had never mentioned anything before that night a few days ago. Hell, if his declaration was any indication, he had never agreed to…whatever that was. He certainly hadn't cared whenever she called him Rowdyruff all these years, but she guessed that he had never divorced himself from the title.

Rowdyruff and Powerpuff

That's…what they were. It was a bond, a bond between siblings. That's what those names meant. Utoniums meant all four of them. Jojo… Well, outside of school, the Boys had never really used "Jojo", had they? They had always just been…Rowdyruff.

Just like how they were Powerpuff.

Buttercup's fingers slowed until they stilled. She stared down at the metal in her hand.

"…Bubbles," she spoke, not moving her gaze. "About…"

Bubbles hummed, a flash of curiosity through their bond, but her voice was professional and cold as she asked, "About what, Buttercup?"

Buttercup gritted her teeth and took a breath. She dropped the gun.

"About six years ago… When I…" She swallowed. "When I shouted at you… I'm…sorry."

She heard Bubbles inhale.

A tangled mess of emotions tumbled through their link, a mix of surprise, uncertainty, anger, and sadness. Buttercup shouldn't be surprised that there wasn't a lick of forgiveness there, but there was some kind of gentle feeling in that mess. She couldn't tell if that was Blossom reacting to them, though, or that was some hidden kindness left in Bubbles. A part of her hoped it was the latter.

She risked looking up.

"About damn time you apologized, Butterbrains."

And scowled.

"This is a _private_ conversation, _Princess_ ," she hissed.

Princess stood behind Bubbles, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Buttercup had been actively avoiding her for the last month and half or so. She had dodged the pretentious sergeant as much as she could, having not wanted to deal with her sarcasm or blatant suspicion for Blossom. She _had_ wanted her sister's powers removed, after all. At least Brick had vetoed _that_ , even if he was still a paranoid dictator.

Buttercup stood up, ignoring Bubbles' narrowed eyes and matched Princess' glare. It was annoying that Princess was taller than she was, especially with her damn heeled boots that she didn't even _need_. She resisted the urge to float, though, when Bubbles stood up between them.

"Princess—," she began in a chastising tone, but Princess scoffed.

"Don't stop me, Bubbles. Butterbrains fucking deserves this," she hissed. "She _abandoned_ you when you needed her most!"

In her peripheral, Buttercup caught some of the other recruits turning towards them. A murmuring began.

"Princess, now isn't the time nor is it the _place_ ," Bubbles snapped coolly.

"Yeah, Prince-ass. Let's take it out of here, huh?" Buttercup growled.

"After you, Butter _bitch_."

Her lips curled into a snarl. Her fingers twitched into tight fists.

Princess matched her scowl and the two of them stomped out of the room. The murmuring grew into a crescendo as the doors opened and closed behind them.

Sparks danced over Buttercup's hands, but at least her monster was at bay. Then again, with how angry she was already getting, she wouldn't be surprised if that came next. Princess had always had that very special way of pressing her buttons, almost in the same way Ace did.

She had just wanted to fucking apologize to her sister. She already _knew_ she was at fault, but here came Princess trying to rub it in her face like she had any right to do so. Couldn't Buttercup do something as simple as fucking apologize without people getting in her face? Apologizing to Bubbles was hard enough already. All she was getting through their bond was a mix of disappointment and fury, so it wasn’t even like she was even forgiving her!

The two of them barely got out of the door before two strong hands grabbed them.

"You two will _not_ be getting into a fight," Bubbles hissed. Her fingers tightened on their shoulders. "Princess, thank you for your…protection, but I can take care of myself. Buttercup…"

She paused and Buttercup turned to her with a scowl.

Her face was blank, but their bond screamed with anger and displeasure. Her apology apparently meant nothing, but, fuck it, Buttercup had apologized.

Her scowl dropped and she shrugged out of Bubbles' iron grip.

Crossing her arms, she muttered, "Yeah, I get it. You don't forgive me."

Bubbles' mouth flattened. Her hands dropped to her sides, curling into fists.

Indecision and uncertainty filled their link.

That soft pleasant feeling followed. Blossom _was_ paying attention then.

"Why should she? You abandoned her!" Princess snapped before Bubbles could say anything. "And then you— And then you show up after _years_ with fucking _Blossom_!? Who, oh! Was kidnapped by the fucking _aliens_? And you expect us to _trust_ her?"

Buttercup bristled. The sparks danced quicker over her fists.

"Oh, shut up, Princess!" she snarled. "I know you fucking won't! You've always hated Blossom! You and fucking Brick, what a pair! You probably were fucking _thrilled_ to see him that day!"

Princess' glare was dark. She trembled, probably wishing she still had her damn supersuit then just so she could punch her. That furious, flushed expression was a staple for her.

Buttercup bared her teeth in a mockery of grin. Call her petty, but she enjoyed that angry red face.

"I didn't fucking go to that elementary school for _Brick_ , Buttercup," Princess hissed. "I went for _Blossom_."

Silence followed that.

Buttercup's eyebrows rose and she stared agape at the sergeant. She had always assumed that Princess had somehow heard the Rowdyruff Boys had returned and that had been why she showed up there. Then again, she hadn't even batted an eye at them, had she? She had immediately looked for…

"What?"

"Yeah. I went because I thought _Blossom_ would be there and _Blossom_ would have a plan, but no." The fury dimmed on her face and Princess swallowed. Her voice was quieter as she said, "No, she wasn't there and then…" She gestured in a wide arc, face contorting with anger again. "And then you run off because of some fucking nonsense! And fuck up your sister! Now she shows up out of the blue? And you along with her!"

"She didn't exactly have a choice, Princess!" Buttercup snapped, immediately back on the defensive. "If you were looking for Blossom, why aren't you _happy_ that she's back?"

The brat in front of her gritted her teeth and rubbed her face. Dark eyes darted away from her with a venomous glare.

"…because we don't know if that _is_ Blossom!" she hissed.

"She answered all of Bubbles' questions!"

"So could a clone that was taught how to be Blossom! What the fuck are the Powerpunks, Butterbitch!"

Buttercup paused because they really didn’t know what their rip-offs were. They didn't know if they were clones or someone's failed attempt at making her and her sisters. All they did know was they had similar powers and looked like them.

Maybe they should ask Blossom. If she even remembered who or what the Powerpunks were.

"She's not a clone," Bubbles spoke up and again wedged herself between them. "She shares a bond with Buttercup and I, Princess. I don't think the aliens would be able to recreate that."

Princess' nose wrinkled before she scoffed.

"I guess you have a point," she muttered, but the anger hadn't evaporated from her expression. "I'm still pissed at you, Buttercup Utonium."

"Can't say I'm happy with you either, cupcake." Buttercup crossed her arms and bared her teeth. "You should be happy that me and Blossom are back! That the Powerpuff Girls are back! Don't we deserve some fucking respect?"

Princess' countenance darkened. Her scowl was back to full force. "You want us to _respect_ you?"

Buttercup bristled again. She stood straighter and dropped her arms.

"I should get some fucking respect!" she shouted, stepping around her sister and up to the sergeant. "After all I did for this fucking city? After all _we_ did? Just because I wasn't some wannabe _soldier_ , doesn't mean I wasn't also fighting those damn aliens!"

Princess didn't back down, meeting her glare with one of her own. They snarled at each other.

"I know that, but you're a selfish _bitch_ , Buttercup Utonium!" she shouted back. "You may have still fought but you still abandoned everyone!"

Green flashed across Buttercup's vision.

"Fuck you, Princess!"

Her knuckles hurt from clenching her fists so hard, her jaw hurt from her clenching her teeth, but Buttercup resisted the urge to deck Princess. Princess didn't have superpowers. Princess couldn't take a punch like her sisters or the Boys could.

She still wanted to. How dare she. _How dare she!_

"Enough, you two!" Bubbles shoved the two of them apart and stood between them. Glowing blue eyes swung between them as she glared. "I think this is—"

Buttercup smacked Bubbles' hand away.

"No, let her vent all she fucking wants, Bubbles!" she growled. "Obviously, Princess has some pent up frustrations! Which is fucking hilarious since she's a bitch to you too!"

Princess reared back, looking shocked. Fury immediately took over and she too shoved Bubbles' hand away.

"What! How am I bitch to _Bubbles_?" she demanded.

Buttercup raised an eyebrow and scoffed. Crossing her arms, her eyelids lowered over her eyes as she glowered.

"Uh, saying she and Brick have a relationship, dumbass? When they clearly don't?" she said.

Princess' cheeks warmed then. She actually looked a little ashamed underneath all that anger.

"They're so _close_! Anyone would assume—!"

"It's the same damn relationship Bubbles had with Blossom!"

The hallway rung with silence.

Princess stared at her, eyes slowly widening. They swung over to Bubbles, who had frozen.

Fear and shame flooded their link.

Buttercup's arms dropped as she realized just how much she had fucked up again. She turned to look at her sister as well.

Wide blue eyes met hers. For a moment, they wavered and then they were icy steel.

"Bubbles, were you—?" Princess began.

"I think this conversation is _over_ ," Bubbles said frigidly. Her face had gone blank and her eyes narrowed. "Sergeant Morbucks, Miss Utonium. _Dismissed_."

Before either of them could get a word in, she turned on her heel and left.

Buttercup gaped in awe. She still had more training to do and she was just fucking _leaving_? Anyone with _eyes_ could see that Bubbles treated Brick like she did Blossom! Just because Buttercup teased her about it didn't mean she believed it! Bubbles had _always_ been clingy with Blossom because, well, because Blossom had the most maternal habits out of all of them. Even now, years separated and her mind fuzzy, Blossom was still trying to take care of them in her own way.

Buttercup threw a glare at Princess before she sped after her sister. Bubbles was fast, but she hadn't resorted to flying yet. She caught up to her easily, grabbing her arm and tugging her down the next hallway before she could say anything.

Bubbles ripped her arm out of her hold. "Let _go_ of me!"

"You fucking replaced Blossom with Brick," Buttercup snapped. Her mouth opened. "No, don't even fucking deny it, Bubbles. I'm not fucking _blind_."

Her sister's cheeks reddened and she looked around. They were alone, but anyone could come down the hallway.

"I'm not talking about this here," she grumbled. "I'm not having—"

"Find us a fucking office then, _lieutenant_." Buttercup crossed her arms. "We are _so_ having the conversation."

Blue eyes flashed. Green eyes flashed back.

"We are _not_."

Again, she turned on her heel.

Buttercup snatched her arm again.

"Do you want to know why I fucking ran away?" she demanded before Bubbles could rip her arm out of her grasp.

Her sister stiffened under her hold. Her face was cold when she looked over her shoulder, but wariness and fear flooded their link.

Cool reassurance came from somewhere else.

The ice cracked. Bubbles' lip wobbled.

"Buttercup—"

" _Brick isn't Blossom_ ," Buttercup hissed. Her throat itched and she swallowed. "To me… No one could fucking fill Blossom's shoes."

Bubbles looked away. "I know. You said—"

"I said I wouldn't listen to anyone who wasn't Blossom. Yeah. I remember," she answered. She inhaled deeply. Her breath shook still shook when she said, "And Brick _was becoming too much like Blossom_."

The air went still.

Bubbles froze and her eyes slowly widened. Her mouth dropped open. She trembled under her hand.

"You— What are you—?"

"Like you didn't notice it too," Buttercup murmured and finally let her sister go. "Like you didn't notice him… Yeah, he's a lot…a lot more…stoic than Blossom ever was, but… It was too much. I couldn't…"

She stared at the ground. Her heart was racing, remembering those days, months, _years_ , after the invasion. Remembering having to train with the Rowdyruff Boys and watching a face change. Watching it change from angry to something calmer, change from wild to controlled. Change from something she wanted to punch to something that she—

That she—

The tips of Bubbles' boots came into her vision. Buttercup took a breath and twisted away. Her chest felt tight. Her throat was closing up and she just…she had to get out of there.

"You're right. We're not having this conversation," she muttered. She hesitated, though, and turned to look at Bubbles. Her sister stared at her, her steel cracked down the middle to show the lost girl underneath. Buttercup hated that her lips trembled. "I am sorry, Bubbles. I'm sorry that I'm such a selfish bitch."

She walked away again, just like all those years ago.

Bubbles didn't try to stop her.

* * *

"I've sent the reports you requested, General."

Brick flicked through the assorted files on his tablet, not lifting his eyes to the officer before him. Everything was there. Perfect.

He nodded once.

"Thank you. You are dismissed," he said and pulled up the first of the documents.

"Sir."

Boots clacked. His door hissed faintly before all was quiet.

Well, quiet except for the muted grumble from Butch, who had claimed both chairs in front of his desk and had kicked his feet up not even a minute after sitting down. Currently, he was flicking through his own reports with only a mild scowl. Brick had given him field and personnel data to go over, to make sure that their troops were still in top condition despite him recalling half of them. He needed everyone to be if the Big Strike was going to happen.

His own reports dealt with bureaucratic bullshit, involving moving troops from other bases in time for winter and making sure that those other bases wouldn't be left high and dry. Most of them were just requests for reassurances, that Brick knew what he was doing, that he was capable of heading such a big attack. There were a lot of demands and concerns about whether or not four superhumans could handle such a maneuver while their human comrades dealt with the foot soldiers.

Well, they didn't have to worry about such a small number. It wouldn't be four. It would be six.

He frowned down at the screen.

…five. It would be _five_.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't have her in on the strike. Despite her not doing anything that could be considered suspicious (sneaking out to train with Butch aside), he still couldn't trust her with such an important mission. There were too many moving parts to keep an eye on without her being there already. Having her near that damned cancer? He would rather eat his left arm.

He wasn't going to _let_ her anywhere near that fucking eyesore, anyway. The aliens weren't going to touch her ever again, not if he had anything to say about it. There was no risk if she stayed in the base, no risk of them trying to take her back if she stayed behind with the Professor.

How dare those aliens even _think_ of touching _his_ counterpart.

His fingers twitched and Brick rubbed his forehead, letting his hand fall over his eyes. Where the hell was his head? He couldn't let fucking Pinky near those aliens because…because what if something happened? What if she really was acting? What if she was a spy? He knew that was ridiculous, but he had to think of these things to protect his people. Even if he knew Miss Beacon-Of-All-Things-Good would never turn on her city. Would never bring harm to any innocent person, would never bring ruin to the world she had sworn to protect.

Destruction had been his forte, once upon a time.

He had given that up long ago, just as he had given up the name Rowdyruff. He just wished people would quit calling him "Jojo", but, well, that was now on all legal documents regarding them. He even had a stupid little nameplate to show for it too, something he wished he could just melt without anyone questioning him.

He glared at said annoyance before dropping his gaze back to his reports.

"Huh."

He looked up at the noise, finding Butch frowning down at his own tablet. His brother scrolled whatever he was reading back up before he turned towards him.

"Yo, did you see this?" he asked, sliding his tablet over to him.

"See what?" Brick muttered, but his eyes were already skimming the report.

A Citiesville unit was missing.

His jaw clenched. He began drumming his desk, shoulders lifting as he took a deep, deep breath.

Of course, some Citiesville unit was missing. Of course, _Citiesville_ wouldn't listen to him. Their closest ally and the damn branch had to question and fight every fucking order he sent out. General Portman hadn't had this issue, but, well, General Portman didn't have superpowers.

General Portman hadn't been a villain.

"A Citiesville unit went into the MEZ by the bridge and they haven't heard from them since," Butch explained, even as he read it. "They haven't sent any scouts to see what happened and apparently our surveillance equipment in the area is down."

Brick's eyes flickered faster and faster over the words. "Most of our surveillance equipment in Townsville proper is down. The aliens destroy anything we fucking try to send in."

He shoved the tablet back towards Butch before he smashed it. He rubbed his face again before holding it. A long, annoyed groan followed as he leaned forward.

This was just fucking perfect. Another fucking roadblock in getting the Big Strike finalized. First Pinky, then Mojo, and now this. Two years of nigh near perfect plans and then everything fucking fell to pieces. That other shoe hit fucking hard.

A hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey, we can roll with this."

" _How_ , Butch? Just _how_ do you suggest we can 'roll with this'?" he snapped, looking up and glaring at his brother.

Butch shrugged and leaned back in the chair. For his part, he looked apologetic, but his own expression soured as he stared down at his tablet.

A missing unit wasn't something you could just roll with. Those were human lives and if the aliens had gotten them…

Drugged. They could be drugged. Used against them. Tortured for information. Depending on who was in that unit, the Resistance itself could be in danger.

His head dropped back into his hands. His fingers tangled in his hair, loosening it from his ponytail.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!"_

"Bossma—"

"God fucking damn it! We're so—! Fuck, what if the aliens have them? Who knows what information that unit knew? What fucking unit was it?"

"It was Lieutenant Torino's unit. That was…in the report, Brick." Butch sounded confused.

His fingers twitched.

Torino knew _shit_.

He took a breath. Right, he had…he had read that. He had seen the lieutenant's name and… He groaned and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Right. Right, I…" His head hurt. He rubbed his forehead. "I knew that."

A persistent throb began behind his eyes. He groaned and covered his face again.

"Brick…how many hours of sleep did you get last night?" his brother asked.

Butch was leaning on his desk, looking suspicious.

Brick dropped his eyes to his tablet and scowled. He still rubbed his forehead.

"I'm too fuck busy, Butch," he hissed. "Between your fucking mess and now this, I have too much shit to deal with."

"Oh, my _mess_? You mean, _Blossom_?"

He stiffened.

"…if she hadn't shown up—"

"Fucking _bullshit_!" Butch's fists slammed into the desk. The wood creaked and Brick shot him a glare. "Blossom showing up is a fucking _asset_ , fuckhead! If you would just fucking utilize what she _knew—_!"

Brick jumped to his feet as well, leaning over the desk so that he was face to face with his scowling brother. Sparks of red and green danced around them.

"And just what the _fuck_ does she _know_ , Butch? From what everyone is telling me, she knows jack _shit_!"

"Because you aren't fucking letting her remember!" Butch snarled. "They trained her! They taught her about their fucking _culture_! Maybe if you fucking listened to Boomer's reports, you would know that she's just trying to help!"

Brick bristled. He only really listened with half an ear to whatever report Boomer gave him about Pinky. He didn't really…want to know, honestly. She was _safe_ as long as Boomer watched out for her.

Wait, no. The _base_ was safe as long as Boomer watched her. And her learning the aliens' culture? Not a fucking pet, his ass.

His fingers twitched. Heat gathered in his palms, in his throat. Why the fuck would they do that? Why the fuck did they want her so bad? Bad enough to teach her their _culture_.

His fingers curled into fists. His breathing deepened.

Those aliens _wouldn't_ …would they? They wouldn't… How dare they… How _fucking dare they_!

_He was going to kill them._

"Brick?"

 _They couldn't have her_.

"Uh, bossman?"

_He wasn't going to let that happen._

Brick breathed out sparks and leaned back. He ran a shaking hand down his face. His palm dragged against his scowl, feeling the heat that hadn't dissipated from his throat. He swallowed the growl building in his chest and ignored the thrum there.

His head fucking _screamed_.

"Pinky is going to remain under prote-under guard," he snapped before muttering, "She can still use the fucking simulator, anyway. That helps, doesn't it?"

Butch blinked at him, the anger in his face changing to confusion.

"Well, yeah…" He narrowed his eyes and leaned more over the desk. "Brick, are you okay?"

"I'm fucking _fine_." Brick sat back down, still rubbing his forehead.

"Uh-huh… When was the last time you slept again?" his brother pressed. "You're pissier than normal."

"Fuck off," he snapped. "I don't have the _time_. There's too much going on, too much to coordinate. New York is three hours _ahead_ of us—"

"New York also has Major Glory," Butch interrupted, still leaning over his desk. His eyes narrowed. "…you have killer raccoon eyes."

Brick glared at him.

"And what is _Major Glory_ going to do, Butch? Are you forgetting what the fucking aliens did to _him_?" he snapped. "Christ, I have too much to do, Butch. Go…Go do what you want. You're dismissed for today."

His brother didn't move for a moment. His eyebrows had risen before he gave one sharp nod.

"All right."

The next thing Brick knew his chair was spinning. He barely had a moment before his stomach slammed into a shoulder. His breath left him in a gasp. He just registered his door hissing open since the blatant disrespect directed towards his person stunned him too much.

He managed to say "Butch! What the fu—" before his breath left him _again_ as Butch activated his extreme speed.

Brick had never realized just how hard to breathe it was when one had a shoulder in their stomach and was flying somewhere around Mach 5. The air around them heated up and a thin green shield flickered over them, but that did nothing for the pounding in his skull. If anything, it made it worse, the pounding spreading from his eyes to the top of his head to the base of his skull. He couldn't tell if the heat shimmers in the corners of his eyes was because of Butch or the pain in his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to ease the pressure, and gritted his teeth. A wave of nausea washed over him and he clenched his teeth harder.

He slammed his elbow into the back of Butch's skull. His brother stumbled, his speed abruptly decreasing, and it took everything in him not to lose what little he had eaten. Brick slapped a hand over his mouth.

"What…the fuck, Butch?" he hissed between his fingers.

He twisted, trying to wriggle free of his brother's grip, but Butch's hold only tightened. He even clamped an arm over his legs when he tried kneeing him in the stomach.

"You're going to fucking sleep, Brick," he snapped. "You fucking need it."

"I'm fine, asshole!" Brick argued. "Put me the fuck down!"

"Like hell!" Butch began to float again. "Now shut up!"

The good thing about Mach speed was it didn't last very long. One moment they were in the hallway somewhere between his office and the canteen, the next they were outside of the living quarters.

Brick wriggled again as Butch punched in the code. He tried to slam his elbow into his head once more, but a shield flared to life between them. He snarled.

"Butch!"

"You're going to sleep and you're going to fucking like it!"

"Do you know how much work I have!?"

The warm interior of the living quarters greeted him and he struggled more.

"And do you think you're gonna do a good job as sleep deprived as you are?" Butch countered.

Brick froze. He scowled.

"I'm doing _fine_!"

"Oh, ch'yeah right!"

"Listen here, you fucking—!"

"Boys, what are you doing?"

Both Brick and Butch froze at that voice, the gentle voice they hadn't really heard in a while. Or, well, Brick hadn't heard in a while. Butch had gone through that library much more recently than Brick had.

"Hi, Mrs. Cavadini, lovely day, right?" Butch greeted. He must have waved because the hand over Brick’s legs was gone. He immediately began struggling again. "Brick, I swear—!"

"Put me down, Butch!" he demanded. "This is undignified!"

"Oh no! You are going to sleep!"

Brick tried twisting and taking flight, but Butch wrapped both arms around his waist and held him down. He snarled.

"…Butch, put your brother down."

"But—! Mrs. Cavadini, he's not fucking sleeping!"

"Butch."

Butch grumbled, but followed her directions.

Brick was only slightly insulted that his brother would listen to a civilian rather than his own general. Throwing a glare at him, he moved to storm out of the living quarters when a small hand stopped him.

"Brick." Mrs. Cavadini's voice was firm and he stiffened. "Young man, look at me."

He did so, if only so he could get away faster. He had too much to do, too much to plan, and he had no time for this.

Butch moved in his peripheral, no doubt blocking his exit. Brick bit back the scowl and met Mrs. Cavadini's shrewd gaze.

Her eyes narrowed.

He swallowed, but hid it with a delicate cough into his fist.

"Now if you'll—"

"You need rest, young man," she interrupted and ignored his glare. "I can see it on your face, Brick. You need to sleep."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. A throb shot through his skull and he took a deep breath.

"I don't—I don't have _time_ , Mrs. Cavadini," he argued tiredly, letting his hand drop. "There are...things I have to do—"

"An army is only as strong as its leader," she countered and that actually gave him pause. She touched his wrist with a worried frown. "I understand you're busy, Brick, but you're wearing yourself out. If a civilian like me can see that...give yourself time to rest. You have lieutenants who are more than willing to help you."

Brick faltered. "I—"

A hand fell onto his shoulder and squeezed.

"C'mon, bossman. Take a nap at least for an hour or two," Butch said softly. It almost sounded like he was pleading, actually.

Another throb rang through his head. Brick rubbed his forehead to hide his face.

"...all right," he finally said.

Butch slapped his shoulder.

"All right! Naptime, bro!" he cheered and began pushing him farther living quarters. "Seeya later, Mrs. Cavadini!"

"Goodbye, Butch. Take care of yourself, Brick!"

Her footsteps faded behind them the farther Butch pushed him.

Brick rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to push me," he muttered, but he couldn't shrug his brother off. "I can get there by myself."

"Yeah, I don't trust you right now," Butch answered immediately. His grip tightened. "For all I know, you'd take some overly complicated route outta here."

Brick frowned. He had planned exactly that. There was too much to do and, well, he could always sleep in his office if he _really_ needed to. Mrs. Cavadini had a point, of course, but Brick was stronger than the average human was.

He would be fine.

However, the closer they drew to their apartment, the heavier his body felt. His head rang with his heartbeat and not in the pleasant sort of way that appeared in those tacky romance novels. It was like a jackhammer going off in his brain to the point that the warm lights above them hurt. It took everything in him not to start growling.

He did start growling when he fumbled the code to their apartment twice. His fist clenched over the buttons and even he couldn't ignore the faint tremble there.

Butch slapped his hand away before he could incinerate the keypad. His brother shoved him in front of the door as he typed in the code. Brick ignored the snort he received in favor of the welcome darkness of their apartment, already making a beeline to the dark red door right across from the entrance.

On the way, though, he paused to glance at the room. Nothing stood out of place, but something just felt…odd. He couldn't place his finger on why, however, even as he scrutinized their meager belongings. The couch and singular chair were there, as were the small bookshelf with movies and games and the flat-screen television that a younger Boomer and Butch had been insistent on. It had been a small pleasure in a horrible situation, so Brick hadn't had an issue with it and he still didn't, but that wasn't what was wrong. Nothing in the room was out of place; maybe the lack of a mess, but considering that none of them spent a lot of time there anymore, that wasn't really that odd for three young men.

When was the last time he had actually stepped foot in their apartment? He had taken to keeping clean clothes in his office, using the showers in the training room rather than trekking back to the living quarters every day. Maybe the room looked so odd because it had once been so familiar.

Brick frowned, but the pounding in his skull insisted he listen to his brother. He continued to his room and that too looked odd. For a moment, he hesitated before the ache in his body called for his bed. His feet moved of their own accord and he began undoing the buttons of his jacket. A short nap wouldn't…wouldn't hurt…

"I better not see you for at least two hours," Butch was saying. Brick glared at him over his shoulder, curling his lip at the sight of his brother leaning against his doorjamb. Butch was doing something on his communicator, but those eyes glowed in warning when he looked up. "You're a stubborn dick, but you're my brother, Brick. We need you in better condition."

A caustic remark sparked on his tongue, but Brick turned away before his headache got the better of him. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it at his desk.

"…feel free to use the simulator, Butch," he finally muttered.

"Oh, maybe you do have a heart."

Dropping onto his bed to work on his bootlaces, he flipped him off on the way down. He didn't need to deal with his fucking attitude. Wasn't he being good and taking a fucking nap like he asked? Ungrateful ass.

His brother just laughed. The barking did nothing for his headache.

"What? Are you gonna fucking tuck me in or something?" Brick finally snapped after a full two minutes of his brother just…standing there.

Butch rolled his eyes, but stood up from his lean. "Just making sure you weren't gonna run off as soon as I left."

They both glared at each other before Brick exhaled a heavy sigh. He ran his hand through his hair and let his eyes fall closed.

His body _ached_ , ached in a way that wasn't pleasant, nothing like the ache after a heated spar. His head screamed in protest and his eyes felt like sand. He hadn't realized just how little energy he was running on until he was on his bed. As much as he hated to admit it, they all had a point. Butch, Bubbles, and Mrs. Cavadini were right. He couldn't lead like this.

He couldn't be _perfect_ like this.

He rubbed his face. His voice was muffled, as he said, "No. You're right. I need sleep."

"…holy shit, did you just say I'm right?"

His headache spiked.

"Go the fuck away, Butch, and let me fucking sleep!"

"Okay, okay!" Butch inched backwards, hands held up in placation, before he paused. "…but we're gonna talk later."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, he leered suspiciously at his brother. He just wanted to sleep. What more did the idiot want?

"About what?"

Placing his hand over jamb, Butch leaned back into the room. He looked uncharacteristically serious, the kind of serious that Brick had to literally beat into him when they were younger and this whole war had started. Seeing that look directed at him did not sit well.

"The Big Strike."

Brick prided himself in not reacting to that. He merely sighed and rubbed his aching head.

Of course, that was what Butch wanted to talk about, about which, he would admit, he deserved to know anyway. The only ones who had any clear idea about that plan were Bubbles, Mike, and Miss Bellum, and the latter two weren't supposed to be there for it. Now that Mojo was returning, however, Brick was scrambling to fix all that he could fix before the two weeks were up.

He had three days.

He had barely gotten anything cleared away, not now that a Citiesville unit was missing and all the hemming and hawing from the other branches. The Big Strike needed to be coordinated. They needed most, if not all, of the branches in position around the globe. Mobilizing such a big operation took time and he had been planning since last year. They had had only a few things to finalize and then—

And then—

_"By the way, I'm alive. I always have been."_

Brick dug the heel of his palm into his forehead. He couldn't blame her. He _shouldn't_. However, the Powerpunks had become more active _three weeks_ before her arrival at the Resistance. Three weeks wherein she had been with the rebels. More active punks meant they couldn't retreat as easily as before, not with them on such high alert. He had been hoping to throw them into a false sense of security, but with Pinky's arrival here, the aliens were the complete opposite. Too aware of every movement of the Resistance, too ready to counterattack.

He needed time to rework the plan. Two weeks should have been plenty of time, but he had other duties as general and too many hands to hold elsewhere in the world while weathering the veiled insults. How he was so efficient but so young. How he had risen above from where he had come. How he hadn't let such things stop him from becoming a general at _such_ a young _age_.

He got it. He was young. He had been a villain. He _shouldn't_ be a general, a warrior of peace and good, a protector of people, when he had been destruction and chaos before.

In the end, he hadn't really had a choice, had he?

"…all right," he murmured with a heavy sigh. He dropped his hands into his lap and ignored the throbbing in his head. "I'll brief you. You and Boomer."

He didn't say anything immediately, trying to remember what he had told his brothers before. He had definitely told them the basics of the operation, how it was a plan to hit the heart of the alien empire, but he couldn't remember if he had told them anything more than that. He hadn't wanted anyone going off half-cocked before the time, anyway, and it was hard enough reigning Butch in as it was.

Should he call Boomer here? He didn't know where his other brother was (or, rather, where _Pinky_ was), but he could probably get him here. He was even willing to let Boomer drop her off with her sisters if that meant he could get there quicker. His hands fumbled as he dug his communicator out of his discarded jacket.

"Get some sleep first, bossman." Butch spoke before he could form any kind of coherent thought. Glancing up, Brick found his brother about ready to say something more, but he shrugged and turned. "Two hours at _least_ , General Asshole."

Brick's shoulders sunk. The communicator hung lifelessly in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. Go fucking spar, Butch."

His brother gave him the bird and an amused smile.

He almost managed one back, but as soon as his door slid closed, it fell from his face. The communicator clattered to the floor as his face dropped into his hands. He had so much to do, so much to deal with, so much so that his stomach hurt and his chest pounded. That only worsened the migraine (because that definitely wasn't just a fucking headache) drilling into his brain. He groaned long and low.

He had to be perfect. He had to be a leader, the type of leader who didn't stand down in the face of anything. He couldn't fucking let something like sleep get the better of him and yet here he was. Forced into his room by his younger brother, forced into his room because his fucking body wasn't cooperating. He had Chemical X in his blood. He had fucking _superpowers_. He should be _better_ than this!

The shadows seemed to darken. He had to be better. There was no excuse not for him to be better. How long had he…?

His eyes drifted over his darkened room, taking in the bare walls and simple décor. He didn't remember the last time he had been in here. The dresser had been the most recently touched, since he needed _clothes_ , but the desk and the bed hadn't. Still, the sheets under him were clean and there wasn't a speck of dust on the desk.

His eyes stilled there.

Despite the ache in his body and the pounding in his head, he stood and crossed to it with slow steps. He rested his hand on the back of the chair, taking a breath, before sitting down. It felt odd to sit there. How many nights had he stayed up going over reports, formations, and military maneuvers? How many papers had he gone over here, learning the bureaucracy and protocol that General Portman had insisted he learn? How many times he had fallen asleep here and woken up to a blanket over his shoulders? He still did that, but now he had a much more comfortable chair and no more blanket.

His fingers moved on autopilot, drifting underneath and finding the key he had long since taped in the far back corner. The metal felt cold as he turned it over mindlessly before inserting it into the bottom door. With a twist, the drawer opened.

The hat inside had sat untouched for years. That red hat that had been just as a part of himself as his eyes or hair, but like the Rowdyruff Boys, it had retired to this locked drawer, never to be worn again. Eight years it sat. Eight years as a reminder of what had been and what he was no longer.

Brick hesitated for only a moment, his hand hovering above the brim, before he plucked it from the drawer. For something he had used to compare to a crown, it was light. Light and worn, the edges of the brim were a little frayed and the main hat was paler than it once was. How funny that he would have bitten someone's head off for trying to touch this and he hadn't even worn it in years. How funny just seeing it made his chest ache. After all, just as he used to wear this, _she_ …

His eyes lifted from the hat to the little treasure it had been protecting. His fingers twitched, but before he could decide that he was being ridiculous, he was scooping up the ribbon.

It was lighter than his hat, but a shared faded red from years of use. It was thin, thin from wear and from fingers running over its material. This wasn’t _the_ ribbon, but it was just as good, just as important. After all, it had been in rough shape when he had taken it all those years ago so she must have worn it as much as her original ribbon.

He hadn't missed the one tied in Pinky's hair when she appeared all those weeks ago. There was no doubt that it was one of the missing one's. Maybe it was the one that Buttercup had taken or maybe it was _the_ ribbon. Whatever ribbon it was, she still wore it like the crown he used to imagine it was. That upright posture, that proud look, and that _damn_ _bow_ , everything exactly how he remembered it in a face and body that had changed.

 _In a face and body that hid a scar… That shook with an inner turmoil he didn't understand, that trembled at a mere name_ …

Brick scowled down at the ribbon, twisting it irritably around his fingers. He had no fear of tearing it, even as he wound and wound the fabric over his knuckles. He had become a master at twining this ribbon. A part of him recoiled from that, recoiled from any admittance that he would willingly do anything with something of hers, but he couldn't rightly lie to himself about that. He had spent plenty a stressful night twining the damn ribbon because it was something for his hands to do while his mind raced.

And wasn't that exactly what he was doing now? Even with the throbbing of his headache, even with the ache in his body, as soon as he saw that damn drawer, his body had moved on its own. His hat sat next to his elbow, close enough to touch, but he hadn't fiddled with that in a long, long time. A ribbon was more discreet, could be kept in a pocket on missions, and—

He gritted his teeth and tossed the piece of fabric back into its hole. The hat followed it, capturing it once again, and he slammed the drawer shut.

With a groan, he leaned on his desk, his throbbing head in his hands. Too much. Everything was too much. He had too much work to do, too many things to deal with to spend so much time thinking about Pinky. If she did anything, Boomer could handle it, he was sure of that. Boomer was more than capable, even if his stomach twisted of the idea.

_He was the only one allowed to deal with her. She was his counterpart. His._

He groaned again.

He hated her. He _hated_ her.

That was what the burn in his chest and the twist in his stomach meant.

_He hated her. And he was the only one allowed to deal with her._

Brick ruffled his hair angrily with a snarl. Where the hell was his head?

Butch was right. He really needed to fucking sleep.

His body felt heavier than ever as he stood. He hadn't felt like this in…in _years_. The last time had to be after General Portman's death. He immediately dug a knuckle into his temple with a scowl. There were enough unpleasant thoughts bouncing around his head, he didn't have to add anymore.

The short distance between his desk and bed may as well have been miles. He didn't even bother with the blankets or taking off anymore of his uniform. He just fell into the pillow, strangely smelling clean, and let out another groan. Never had a bed felt so fucking fantastic.

* * *

Somehow convincing Lee that Blossom didn't need a full guard in her own apartment had proved very easy. Boomer wasn't sure if it was because it was sound reasoning or if it was because Lee was one of the people who preferred to avoid Blossom whenever she could manage it. He personally hoped for the former, but from the narrowed eyes Lee had been giving Blossom all day, he had a suspicion it was the latter. The fact that so many people actually sided with Brick and his paranoia irked him, but Boomer was a sergeant and, well, he did agree that they really didn't know a lot about what happened to Blossom.

Like whatever caused that blizzard a few days ago. Neither of her sisters had told him anything, but with how pale and shivering Blossom had been, he hadn't pressed them on what had happened. Besides, Buttercup's beast was in full rage mode, her eyes literally solid green, and he had really not wanted to deal with that. Even the Professor had backed down, but when the sisters had left, both snarling at him when he tried to follow, their father had sunk into the nearest chair and just held his head.

Boomer had pretended not to hear the sobs. He regretted not doing more for him, but he hadn't really been in the best shape either. The image of a shaken Blossom, pale with glittering tearstains on her cheeks, had shaken him more than he would like to admit. Maybe he had spent too much time with Brick, maybe he had heard his older brother compare her to a devil too many times, but that sight of her so _broken_ had frozen him.

That wasn't Blossom. Blossom wasn't supposed to look like that. She was supposed to smile at him in that simultaneously shy but polite way, a faint glimmer in her eyes when she finally got him to answer her. She was supposed to stand tall and in control, looking out at a crowd of people she hadn't seen in years like she ruled the roost all the same. She was supposed to be demure and prideful all at the same time because while he had gotten used to this Blossom, he remembered the vicious Commander and Leader from their childhood. He remembered bloody lips and frostbite. He remembered glowing crimson eyes and a scowl that bordered feral whenever they crossed paths.

That was Blossom. The twitch of a proud grin, the tilt of a confident chin, and the gentle smile of now. That all made Blossom.

Not…that.

Not that broken girl, that woman who looked shaken down to her very core, who clung to Bubbles and Buttercup like they were her only lifeline.

Boomer cupped his chin and stared unseeingly at said woman talking with Robin and Mitch. Hanout had stepped out to check on the Professor, which left him as the sole guard. They were in the Girls' apartment, though, so it wasn't like Brick could be upset anyway. He had said that she didn't need a guard in her own damn apartment.

Blossom looked…content. She had been subdued earlier, not asking any questions like she usually did. Nothing for him or Hanout to answer, no requests for some story that had happened in her absence. Nothing about protocol or the base or anything. Her smile had been small, her eyes tired, and the sight of the bags under her eyes made his stomach flop uneasily.

He had seen similar bags under different colored eyes, darker colored eyes.

He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut, before slowly opening them. Brick was wearing himself thin. At the rate he was going, Boomer wouldn't be surprised if his brother blew up over something. He would bet that something would be Blossom, though Butch and Buttercup were contenders. More than likely, though, it would be Blossom because she had always had a way of getting under his skin that neither he nor Butch could.

Boomer was going to his damnedest to make sure that didn't happen. No one needed that, least of all either Brick or Blossom. So he would make sure it didn't.

Nodding to himself, he tried to grab the trail of conversation. He had missed a good chunk of it, as Robin was fervently trying to catch up with Mitch, who had apparently been too busy to visit her.

"I cannot believe you and Buttercup are friends with benefits!" she cried. "How could you not _tell_ me?"

Mitch gave her a look. "Robin, I haven't seen you in years. And we aren't anymore anyways."

"Still! It's called a fucking _letter_ , Mitchelson!" she countered. "Enough units went through the library! You could have passed one along!"

"We also had the vid-coms."

"I am apparently 'not authorized to use them'." Her fingers wiggled with the air quotes, but her scowl was short-lived. "Which, I guess makes sense… Catching up with friends isn't really a…priority."

Boomer winced and he didn't miss the compassionate look on Blossom's face. She gently patted her friend's shoulder, but her look soon turned confused. She tilted her head and pursed her lips.

"What…does 'friends with benefits' mean?" she asked. "I've…heard others use it, particularly Butch being honest, and I'm not sure what it means."

Boomer stared and then shared a wide-eyed look with both Robin and Mitch. Mitch grimaced and covered his reddening face while Robin whipped back around to Blossom.

Boomer put his head in his hands.

The pneumatic hiss of the main door sounded like a savior.

"BUTTERCUP UTONIUM!"

Never mind.

Boomer winced up at the startled Buttercup and Bubbles, both of whom stopped at the force of Robin's bellow. He rubbed his forehead.

"Rob—?"

"What have you not been teaching your sister!?" Robin demanded and Blossom made an irritated noise.

"Robin, will you please ca—?"

Robin whipped back towards her, her furious expression abruptly worried. She grabbed Blossom's hands.

"Oh my God, please tell me you know what sex is."

Blossom's face went redder than her bow.

Mitch and Buttercup sputtered something amazing.

Boomer clapped his hands over his face yet again and sunk low into the chair. His skin felt hot.

Something clattered, probably Bubbles' communicator because she shrieked, "ROBIN!"

"What! I have to ask!" their friend cried.

"Yes! I know what sex is! I received the-the Talk! I just wanted to know what 'friends with benefits' meant!" Blossom shrilled before her voice jumped another octave. " _Thank you, Buttercup_! _I do not need images_!"

Boomer sunk lower into the chair, until he was almost horizontal.

A smack echoed in the small room.

"Ow! Fuck, Bubbles!"

"What are you showing our sister! She doesn't need to know that!"

"She asked!"

"Not for pictures!"

The knock at the door never sounded so beautiful.

Boomer pulled himself up, but his face still felt hot and he winced at the scowling Bubbles. Her scowl lessened when she caught his eyes and she rolled hers. Her nose wrinkled and she mouthed something at him, but he couldn't really tell what she had said, too enamored by how cute her nose looked. His lips curled up despite himself and that was apparently the right answer because she smiled back as she moved to sit next to Blossom.

Buttercup had gone to answer the door, grumbling, but Boomer was too caught up in watching how Bubbles softened around Blossom to pay her much mind. His heart had begun to pound at their shared moment, but seeing her so gentle with Blossom eased the rush in his blood.

She hadn't been like that with her a few days ago. She hadn't smiled like that around Blossom or even had spent so much time with her. Whatever had happened in the simulator had changed something. After all, she was calling herself a Powerpuff Girl again so that…that meant something.

He ignored the twist in his stomach, the sour taste in his mouth. It was good that Bubbles could call herself a Powerpuff Girl again. That was their bond, after all, their sisterhood. Just like…Rowdyruff had once been…

He dropped his eyes from the two sisters. They fell upon a frowning Mitch, who looked suddenly a little too pale despite his earlier embarrassment.

"Blossom," the former rebel began, "the aliens didn't—"

Boomer's stomach dropped. He wasn't asking what he thought he was. He couldn't be asking what he thought he was.

Then again, hadn't Boomer worried about something similar a few days ago?

"No." Blossom's answer was immediate and curt, cutting off the rest of the question. "I was not to be touched."

A queasy feeling filled Boomer's stomach even at his relief. Sure, nothing had happened, but that…that 'not to be touched'…

"What are you talking about?"

He swallowed at the snarl, eyes moving against his better judgment.

 _Two_ pairs of glowing green glares greeted him, bookending a white Professor and a stone-faced Hanout.

"It's nothing, Buttercup," Blossom soothed, but even Boomer could hear the faint tremor in her voice.

"What do you mean _it's nothing_!?" Buttercup snapped. "Mitch, how could you—!?"

"That isn't why we asked everyone here, Buttercup," her sister said and the green puff's mouth snapped shut. "Please…I'm fine. Nothing happened."

" _Blossom_ ," the Professor breathed and Boomer had never heard him sound so broken.

"Really, dad. I'm okay," Blossom assured him, but he didn't look convinced.

Boomer didn't blame him.

With a poorly hidden scowl, Buttercup took the Professor's arm and guided him over to the couch where the rest of the Girls sat. Robin gave up her seat to the man, squeezing next to Mitch on the loveseat. Hanout took a seat on the floor in front of them and leaned next to Mitch's legs. Meanwhile, the Professor and Bubbles bookended Blossom and Buttercup perched on the arm next to their father.

Butch didn't move from the entranceway. He just took a couple steps to his right and leaned against the wall next to the light blue door. He crossed his arms, but the serious look on his face threw Boomer. Butch didn't look like that unless they were discussing something important.

A phantom scream echoed in Boomer's ears, followed by shrill beeping. Followed by the whoosh of wind muffled by snow and glass.

Bubbles had been insistent when she asked him to convince Blossom's guards to leave them. She had, of course, asked him to remain when he had asked why, but she hadn't explained anything more. Neither had Buttercup nor Blossom. Then again, Blossom hadn't really been very talkative since the simulator, even if she had assured him that she was okay when he asked the next day.

Her smile hadn't reached her eyes and both her sisters had taken to finding them in the library on their breaks. They sat like they were now, like how they always had oriented themselves to her. Bubbles on Blossom's right and Buttercup on her left. Well, this time the Professor was there, but every other time, that was how they sat.

"Now that everyone's here," Robin spoke up, "what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Bubbles and Buttercup looked at each other, their eyes dropping to Blossom.

Her expression was perfectly controlled, a painful neutral that Boomer felt himself reacting to all the same. It was a stoic look he was familiar with, a look that meant she was trying so hard to keep something inside. Brick was extremely good with that look, to the point that Boomer had begun having trouble reading his own brother. When they were younger, Boomer had been one of the few that could read him and now he could more easily read a person he hadn't seen in ten years. That didn't sit well with him.

Blossom took a breath and laced her fingers with Bubbles'. The Professor, probably sensing her discomfort, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Do you want me…?" Buttercup murmured, but Blossom shook her head.

"I…can do it," she answered before taking another breath and lifting her chin. In a clear voice, she said, "A few of you are…aware of what had transpired a few days ago. I…remembered something from my time with the Narcassians and…" She paused, taking a breath and closing her eyes to steel herself. They fluttered open, resolute pink flashing over them all. "And it…was unpleasant."

"Honey…" Professor Utonium murmured with concern, squeezing her shoulders.

She shook her head, but leaned into his hug all the same.

"You and Boomer at the very least deserve to know, Professor," she insisted softly.

Boomer could see her trying to remain strong, but she was beginning to shake. His stomach twisted and a chill slithered down his spine, like slimy bone cold fingers dragging across his skin.

The image of her huddled between her sisters, both of whose eyes burned like embers, invaded his mind, insistent like a fly on a hot summer's day. The image of her broken and small, crying and clinging to her sisters like a drowning man to driftwood. The chill spread over his ribs.

"Blossom, if it's that bad—," he began, but she shook her head again.

"It…It's something I…think you should all know," she answered and his heart dropped. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but eyelashes fluttered them away and she held her chin high. Her knuckles shone white where she clung to Bubbles. "I was…at Seattle. I was part of that…that m-massacre…"

The sound went out of Boomer's ears, save the horrifying ringing of his erratic heartbeat.

He stared, but all he could see was Brick's hollow expression, Butch's trembling fists, and the exhausted face of Lieutenant Hernandez from the aftermath of that horrible day. All he could see was the weight of the world on his brother's shoulders crushing him more and more over the days and weeks and months since, the bruises under Bubbles' eyes from too many late nights, the shaky smile on Butch's face as he pretended that everything would be okay. The Professor had ended up in the medical bay for almost a week straight, trying to figure out a way to take out the Powerpunks, to weaponize Antidote X without someone trying to use it against _them_.

His breath tore from his lungs. His fingertips tingled as if they had fallen asleep. His vision tunneled to the family curled together on the couch, to the family that barely could hold themselves together.

He felt disconnected from his body. He could see everything, but he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't _hear_ anything. Blossom had been _there_? At Seattle? At the worst fucking battle they had ever seen?

No survivors. There had been no survivors. He had seen the list of casualties, just how long it was, and Blossom had been a part of that.

The kind, gentle Blossom he had been getting know had been part of that.

The Blossom that could create a blizzard in a moment that could cause the simulator to shriek in protest.

The Blossom who had been able to leave frostbite on Brick, on someone who was fire incarnate.

Boomer felt sick.

"No…" Robin murmured. "You… _Seattle_?"

Blossom nodded, but the resolution on her face cracked. Even as she met their eyes, tears began to pour down her face, which scrunched with the first labored breath. That tiny sound hit harder than any punch an alien could dream of landing on him.

The sight of her trembling and crying but trying so hard to remain strong reminded Boomer too much of Brick, too much of his brother looking more and more tired but keeping his head held high. His chest constricted because watching one person shouldering the world was already too much. Watching Blossom of all people, Blossom of the _Powerpuff Girls_ , Blossom who could bring his brother and leader to his knees, Blossom who Boomer would maybe admit he was _befriending_ these past couple of weeks, collapse from a memory of something she couldn't control chilled him more than the blizzard he had witnessed days ago. With the tears cascading down her face and her family bookending her, she looked nothing like the warrior something like Seattle said she was.

Even then, she wasn’t supposed to look so small and broken, held together by her sisters and father. She wasn't supposed struggle for a brave face, a commanding face. Blossom was Brick's counterpart! Blossom was strong! Boomer couldn't understand. He didn't _want_ to understand.

Bubbles pressed against her side, leaning their heads together. She stroked her hair as her sister tried and failed to keep her face stoic, to pretend that tears didn't soak her skin. Her face contorted with a sob and Bubbles tugged her face into the crook of her neck.

The Professor slumped next to her and only Buttercup's arms around his shoulders held him up. He had gone ashen, his mouth slack. His hands trembled.

"Those…Those…" he murmured and his jaw clacked shut. He threw his arms around Blossom, around Bubbles, and held them close. "Oh, _honey_. Oh, my Blossom, I am s-so s-sorry! I-I'm s-so sorry you had-had to go through that!"

"N-No, I-I'm s-s-sorry," Blossom gasped in a voice that held none of the cold resolution with which she had begun. "I-I couldn't…the drug was t-too s-s-strong! And he-And he told me—!"

Sobs cut her off, sounding more like choking. Her teeth grit, fighting through her tears, and she pressed her face to her father's shoulder this time. Her shoulders shook as the façade shattered.

Boomer's breathing felt fast. He saw and didn't want to see, didn’t want to witness this breakdown. Not when he imagined red eyes instead of pink, not when the mere imaginary image broke cold sweat across his forehead. They couldn't afford a shattered leader.

The air tasted like ice, but he couldn't tell if that was Blossom or his senses fighting against him.

"He told her to destroy," Buttercup hissed, even as she hugged her family.

Blossom sniffled. "And I— And I _did_. I d-destroyed. E-Everything. Human, aliens… I-I didn't-I didn’t—"

Her sisters and the Professor hugged her tighter as her voice faded with her sobs. Buttercup's monster flickered over them.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," she growled. "You hear me? I'm going to _kill_ _Aterex_!"

"I told you. Get in fucking line, Butters," Butch snarled and Boomer jolted at the angry rumble of his voice. Butch's face was dark with an anger that burned in his eyes. He was even baring his teeth and his own knuckles shone white. "Fucking piece of _shit_."

"Oh my God, _Blossom_!" Robin cried.

She threw herself over the Utonium family's knees, hugging Blossom's waist. She curled as close as she could get with her face in her stomach, her shoulders shaking from soundless sobs or just the effort of holding onto Blossom, who dropped a hand and stroked her hair.

Robin made a gasping noise that cut deep into Boomer's stomach.

Hanout had his face in his hands, body curled forward as if he could curl himself into a ball and out of existence. His fingers trembled. His whole body trembled.

"Shit," he hissed. "Shit, shit, _shit_!"

Mitch ran a shaking hand through his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.

"Yeah, that…that doesn't get better the second time around," he muttered. His breath shook. "Fuck… Fuck Aterex. Fuck all those God damned aliens. Just… _fuck_."

That…was odd.

Boomer latched onto that odd statement. It was the only solid thing his mind could latch onto when he stared at Blossom and saw the world collapsing.

"What do you mean…second time?" he managed to ask after finding his voice.

It sounded weird. Like an echo of his voice put through one too many sound filters.

Buttercup stiffened.

A light blue glare swung up to her.

"I…may have vented to Mitch…and Butch…after all that…happened," she admitted when even Robin looked up at her disbelief.

"And you didn't tell _me_!?" Robin demanded. "I'm your best friend!"

"Blossom was still fragile!" Buttercup argued. "And it's not like… Look, we were going to tell them anyway!"

"But still!"

The two of them continued to squabble, but Boomer couldn't focus. The little bit of solidity from Mitch was gone when the other man leaned down to rub Hanout's back. Boomer's own hands shook when he looked down at them fisted in his lap.

Blossom took part in _Seattle_. In the battle that had even shaken the _rebels_ , the battle that even bases outside of the United States Resistance had mourned. The battle that Brick had refused to let either he or Bubbles see.

Boomer had read the reports, of course, just to see why his brothers had looked like that. He hadn't needed to see the wasteland Seattle had become to have nightmares. Just that long, long list of names and that longer list of causes of death. He had spent too many nights that first month wondering what would have happened if they had been there. If he or Brick or Butch had been there? If Bubbles or even Buttercup had been there? Would they have been able to push the Powerpunks back?

…would they have been able to save Blossom sooner?

Just how many on that list had been Blossom? How many of those names had died at her hands? They hadn't bothered listing the aliens and Boomer wondered if that had been her. If she had been the one to kill the aliens and the Punks had only focused on their forces. Aterex had told her to destroy so… Maybe… Maybe she had focused on the aliens. Maybe she hadn't. They didn't know. What had been Blossom and what had been the Powerpunks?

Seattle had…

Seattle had _broken_ Blossom.

Blossom wasn't _supposed_ to break.

She was Brick's counterpart! Brick didn't break so Blossom wasn't supposed to either!

It…It was _wrong_!

His fingers shook as he rubbed his face.

Fuck. _Brick_.

If Brick found out…

 _When_ Brick found out that Blossom had been at _Seattle_ … When he found out that she had killed, that they had ordered her to destroy and she _did_ … Boomer remembered pure red eyes, remembered smoke billowing from a snarl, remembered crimson energy heating the very air. He remembered a low, low growl that made him shiver. Whether that growl would be directed at Blossom, however…

Maybe if they explained that Blossom had been _drugged_ , had been _heavily drugged_ , he would listen. Blossom would never do something like of her own volition. Even Boomer knew that and he had only really gotten to know her these last couple of weeks. Brick had been the one who knew her best before. He should…should understand…

Who was Boomer kidding? Brick wouldn't understand. He would just see another threat and the ban would get worse. Or maybe he would finally lock her up somewhere, choose a room and keep her there. The base didn't really have a jail since they honestly didn't need one so house arrest was the closest they get. Maybe he would finally give in to Princess and those other officers' request: take Blossom's powers away.

The thought made Boomer sick. He hated the thought of Blossom losing her powers, of one of them losing their powers. Even if they had been enemies before, it had always been the six of them. They couldn't keep this a secret, though. This was too big, way too big, and about _Seattle_.

They couldn't.

Boomer swallowed and dropped his hands. "We have to tell Bri—"

He didn't get to finish. There was a bright flash of blue, something he felt was vaguely familiar, and then his head snapped back and forth, as his _chair_ slammed into the wall. Power crackled around them, the faintest hint of ozone in the air making his hair stand on end.

Glowing solid _blue_ eyes met his. A snarl crinkled that cute button nose. He didn't know the last time he had seen her so vicious. He didn't know the last time that viciousness was directed at him.

Something south of his chest hopped excitedly. He swallowed.

"Don't you _fucking_ dare, Boomer Jojo," Bubbles hissed. Her arms bracketed his head and he sunk as she leaned forward. "Brick is _not_ going to learn about this yet, _capiche_?"

His mouth felt dry. He blinked rapidly.

"But Bub—"

" _No_ , _Sergeant Jojo_ ," she growled. "Not now. Not when Mojo is returning in _three days_. Not when my sister is like _this_. Not when Brick hasn't _slept_ for more than _two_ fucking hours a night! Do I make myself _clear_?"

"C-Crystal, ma'am," he murmured.

Her eyes narrowed before she nodded and stood. She returned to Blossom's side, ignoring everyone's stares as she sat down and returned to soothing her sister.

Boomer could only stare as well. His heart raced and he held the arms of the chair too tight. It creaked.

With much difficulty, he managed to move his eyes, but found his brother staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Butch's eyes narrowed when their gazes met. Rather than the scowl he was expecting, a frown pulled down his lips and he gave a small shake of his head. The look he threw to his right screamed of worry and…protection? Boomer was sure he had seen a similar look before, a worried and combatant look that Butch had directed too many time towards their brother in the aftermath of General Portman's death.

Butch would do anything to protect Blossom then. If, in his mind, not telling Brick about her involvement in Seattle protected both of them, he wasn't going to say a word.

No wonder he hadn't mentioned anything.

Boomer wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

* * *

Managing to get both of his brothers in a meeting proved more difficult than it should have been. Brick had arranged for Bubbles to take over Pinky's guard for the last three days, but something always came up that made him unavailable until now. Either he had an issue to address in regards to another base or, because he was busy, Boomer had taken the time to work with his troop. Butch had no such issues, but that was also because Brick hadn't yet lifted his probation and he had diligently stayed at his side with only minor grumbling.

Finally, on the third day and the day that Mojo was due to return, Brick had managed to get both of his brothers into his office with a vague threat to everyone to give them at the very least an hour. He didn't really think it would last, since the disappearance of the Citiesville unit had made waves and whispers were beginning. More bases had started to worry and to question his leadership, which, while his own base remained loyal, nevertheless caused some stirs.

A whole fucking unit deciding to ignore orders and go into the MEZ wasn’t exactly his fault, but of course, Brick had to be the one to soothe the panic and hold everyone's hands. He was still the main General of the West Coast Resistance, so any unit that decided to step out of line apparently reflected on him. Because he was young. Because he had been a villain.

_Because he wasn't a fucking beacon of light and trust._

That didn't matter right then, however. He had promised Butch he would tell his brothers about the Big Strike and that was what they were going to do.

With one last glance over the latest bellyaching from one of the bases down South, he placed his tablet aside and laced his fingers together. Butch sat in the chair to his right, looking bored out of his mind, but his heavy-lidded gaze never left Brick. Boomer, on the other hand, sat stiffly in the other chair, looking almost like he had swallowed something bitter and kept fidgeting. He would cross his arms and then uncross them, cross his legs, uncross those, fuss with his jacket, and then he would cross his arms again. He also wouldn't meet Brick's eyes, no matter how long Brick stared at him.

He would question Boomer about his odd behavior after the briefing. If he had something to say, he might as well say it when it was only the three of them.

"As I have told you before, I have an operation I've been planning since last year called the Big Strike," he began and stopped at Butch's snort.

"It's just us, bossman. Drop the theatrics," he remarked.

Brick narrowed his eyes at him before huffing.

"Fine. I planned the Strike for December of this year," he said and, again, his idiot brothers cut him off.

"What!?" both cried, leaning forward in their chairs.

"You didn't fucking mention that before, Brick!" Butch snapped.

" _December_!? We're almost through September! Is that enough time to _prepare_!?" Boomer asked.

Brick lifted an eyebrow.

"Why do you think I had people returning in summer?" He rolled his eyes and dropped his hands. "Look, the original plan was to have half the units return so we could begin doing drills. There is a reason I had upped the training regimens of every unit and had the medical wing working overtime to make sure everyone was in top condition. The other half of the units would spread out to our closest allies, Citiesville and Farmsville in particular, so they could help organize them. You did notice that certain units hadn't returned, right?"

"…I was wondering where Lieutenant Hernandez was," Boomer admitted.

"Exactly. Lieutenant Hernandez in particular I had stay as much in the field as possible, cooperating with Citiesville and whatever survivors still live in the suburbs," Brick explained. "…of course, this was all before…"

His mouth twisted and he took a breath.

"Before Blossom?" Butch lifted his own eyebrow. That heavy-lidded look returned. "C'mon, bossman. Use that big fucking brain of yours. She's a fucking asset."

Brick gritted his teeth, but all he did was hiss out his displeasure.

"The rebels and…Pinky's return have not been…ideal," he muttered. "It…threw some wrenches into the plan. The rebels give us more manpower, but—"

"Uh, doesn't Blossom give us more… _super_ power?" Boomer piped up. He shrunk when Brick's gaze swept towards him. "I-I mean, t-the more superhumans we have on our side—"

"Pinky will _not_ be taking part in the Big Strike," Brick growled. "She isn't going to get anywhere _near_ those fucking aliens, do I make myself clear?"

"C-Crystal, sir."

"Oh, come the fuck _on_ , Brick!" Butch snapped. "Blossom is more than capable—"

Heat settled in Brick's throat, in his _eyes_. Butch swallowed nervously and sunk in his chair.

" _Blossom_ ," he growled, "is _not_ going to be part of the Big Strike. We do _not_ know what those aliens did to her and I am _not_ going to risk them getting their dirty fucking _paws_ on her again. She can stay here and help the Professor for all I fucking care. She is _not_ going into the field!"

He didn't like that look Boomer and Butch shared, but they intelligently kept their mouths closed.

Boomer cleared his throat nervously. "R-Right, so… The Big Strike is…happening in December?"

"Yes, right." Brick rubbed his forehead and breathed sharply through his nose. "It's a global stri—"

" _Global_!?" Butch stared at him agog, mouth hanging open and leaning forward again.

Brick narrowed his eyes and his brother immediately sat back.

"Yes, Butch, _global._ That's why I had recalled most of the units," he answered. "This way other bases around the world could get their units back in time and start coordinating with their closest allies. For us, I had you come back so soon so we could run the…Worse Cast Scenario simulation with all four of us. Five now, if Buttercup would curb her fucking temper."

Boomer's face went white.

Butch began to twitch.

"D-Did the Professor _allow—_?" his youngest brother began and his mouth snapped shut at Brick's look. Of course, the Professor wouldn't allow them to run that simulation, but desperate measures needed to be taken sometimes. " _Brick_! There's a reason that simulation needs both yours and Professor Utonium's codes!"

"We need to be prepared, Boomer," he argued. "I hoped— I _planned_ on the Big Strike being the thing that brings down this so-called _empire_. We need to be prepared to do so and that simulation—"

"It's a death wish," Butch snarled. "You should fucking know that, Brick! Don't you remember the last time we tried that simulation?"

Brick's fingers twitched. His chest tightened and he blew out a hot breath.

The last time they had tried the Worst Case Scenario simulation had been a couple months before General Portman's death. They had a whole simulated unit and all four of them present, but the simulation had been a…disaster. Aterex was a formidable foe, for sure, and combined with the simulated army he had come with had led to bloodshed they wouldn't see until Seattle. Despite having very little data on Aterex, aside from Mojo's eyewitness account and some early footage from the war, the simulation had been an utter failure.

They hadn't been able to get more data on the self-proclaimed emperor either. The damn alien had stopped coming out of his hellhole over the years or, if he did, he didn't go far from it.

Now that they knew that he had had _Pinky_ , that made sense he wouldn't go far. Best to keep an eye on his _prize_ , right?

Brick swallowed the fire he felt in his throat. He clenched his fists tightly to stem the tremors there.

"We're stronger now," he muttered. "We could—"

"We could use Blossom's knowledge," Boomer interrupted and this time, he didn't back down at his glare. "Brick, _Big Bro_ , they _trained_ her. She…She has personal experience with the aliens. She doesn't…have to run the simulation with us, but if she…watches, maybe she could give us…pointers?"

Brick's mouth twisted. His knuckles hurt from clenching his fists so tightly.

"No."

A second voice echoed with his.

Eyebrows lifting, he turned to his middle brother, surprised that Butch was agreeing with him.

"Boomer, have you _seen_ Blossom say Aterex's _name_?" Butch growled lowly. "She's fucking _terrified_ of him." Brick twitched at that, at the very idea that _his_ counterpart could be terrified of _anything_. "It may be a simulation, but who knows what _seeing_ Aterex could trigger."

A look passed between the two of them. Brick didn't like it for the mere reason that he didn't _understand_.

"…you have a point," Boomer relented. "But she-she can still help!"

And back to this.

Brick rubbed his face.

"Let's…just get through this briefing first," he grumbled. He pulled his tablet back towards himself and flicked it on. "The Big Strike will take place in winter, as I said. I'm sure the two of you noticed that the aliens don't attack very often in winter."

They both looked surprised, but Boomer was the one who looked down thoughtfully, even pressing his knuckle to his mouth.

"…and if they _do_ come out, they have special armor," he murmured.

"Precisely." Brick nodded and folded his hands. "All of the alien bases are also in areas that tend to be hot and humid. Paris is the farthest north of any of the alien bases. It's also one of the larger ones, of course, but no other alien bases are on the same latitude. The same can be said for the Southern Hemisphere. Comodoro Rivadavia is the farthest south of their bases. They like heat. They hate winter and the…cold…"

Cold.

The aliens hated the _cold_.

Brick stared between his brothers, but he vaguely registered a similar dawning look on Boomer's face. The aliens didn't go anywhere farther north than Paris. They had no bases in Canada or most of Russia. They had no other bases in southern Argentina than Comodoro Rivadavia. They had no bases in Chile or the Andes. If it snowed, any battles that occurred between their forces involved the humans who had sided with the aliens.

He felt ice crawling over his skin. He could see ice hitting his flames, saw steam rising between him and—

And—

Pink eyes glowed at him.

They had always assumed the attack had been…abrupt. But had…had the aliens…?

"Does…the Professor have any of Emmons' blood left?" he murmured, but he was standing before either of his brothers could answer.

Boomer followed on his heels as he made his way to the door.

"Whoa— Hey, guys!" Butch cried.

"I'm not sure," Boomer was saying when their brother caught up to them. "I know he's been studying it, but I'm not sure if he was studying her effect on it. Would that even be enough to test?"

Brick's mouth twisted.

"It will have to be for now," he admitted as they hurried down the hallway. "…I'll have to send a unit out to collect a sample."

"I'm willing to go," Boomer immediately said. "Brick, if the aliens _purposefully—_ "

"She was a fucking _prize_ ," Brick snarled. "A fucking…"

" _What_ are you two talking about?" Butch demanded, throwing his arms around them and forcing them to stop.

"Butch! We have to get the lab!" Boomer cried, shrugging out of his grip.

"Use you God damned _head_ , Butch," Brick snapped, glaring at his brother. "The aliens don't like the _cold_."

"What's _cold_ , Butch?" Boomer added. "You should be more than familiar with _ice_."

Butch froze. His eyes widened and flickered.

" _Fuck_."

"Exactly."

They continued their hurried pace. If Brick weren’t so keenly aware of people giving them odd looks, he would have them fly to the damn lab.

"Do you think the aliens took her on purpose?" Butch murmured in a rare moment of self-awareness. They were running through a packed hallway, after all.

Heat bubbled in Brick's chest.

"I don't know. I don't fucking know, but they're not getting her back," he growled. "Mojo probably has some fucking freeze ray lying around we can use."

"If we can repurpose that, maybe see if the Professor could…replicate it—" Boomer began.

"I'm all for that, but won't that put…too much stress on the Professor?" Butch cut him off.

"This is a _breakthrough_ , Butch!"

"The Professor is already overworked with Emmons' blood, Boomer!"

Brick ignored their arguing and picked up his pace. Maybe they should fly. Yes, they weren't far away now, but…before Mojo returned…

He turned a corner and immediately walked into someone.

"Fuck!"

He caught their arm and froze.

"…Mike?" Boomer asked.

Brick stared down at the lieutenant, _his_ lieutenant, and felt cold wash over him. He shouldn't be here. It was too early. If he was here, that meant...

Robotically, he helped the other man stand up.

Mike Believe rubbed his head before standing at attention. Panic flashed over his face.

"There you are. I need to talk to you," he breathed.

"Can it wait? We have something we need to talk to the Professor about," Boomer countered.

Brick didn't like that dark look on Mike's face. The lieutenant looked over his shoulder before rubbing his face. His knuckles looked torn. Dark circles shadowed his eyes when their gazes met.

He definitely didn't like that unpleasant feeling curling in his stomach.

"Trust me. This is something we _need_ to talk about now," he said lowly.

"Then tell me on the way, Lieutenant Believe," Brick answered and took a step around him.

"Brick!"

"Lieutenant, I am _very_ busy at the moment so _spit it out_ ," he demanded.

"You—! Ugh!" Mike panted from where he was jogging next to him. "It's about _Mojo_!"

"Oh fuck, did he die?" Butch asked, sounding not at all saddened.

Brick didn't exactly blame him.

Yes, Mojo had helped the Resistance a lot. His intellect combined with the Professor's had created this whole base in a scant year or so, but there was no love lost between them. Mojo still treated Brick and his brothers like rambunctious children, even though Brick now outranked him and the three of them had proven themselves more than what he had made them.

_"You always were failures when it came to these girls."_

An alien species deciding to invade the planet wasn’t their fault. Neither was their only bid for survival being to form a truce with the very Girls that they had been created to destroy. It wasn't their fault that fighting the Girls had grown boring and Mojo unoriginal. How many "greatest plan ever"s did they witness before they finally packed their minuscule bags and left?

"Unfortunately, _no_ ," Mike grumbled and Brick felt his own mouth twist. "It's what he _brought_ here."

"Brought here? What could he—?" Boomer asked, but cut himself off with his own growl.

The heat returned to Brick's throat.

"Hello, my sons."

There, in front of the Professor's lab, stood none other than Mojo Jojo himself. He looked older than he had a year previous, his fur more noticeably gray rather than black and more wrinkles on his face. Other than that, he was the same as ever: the obnoxious helmet covering his enlarged brain, his damn cape over his Resistance jacket, and his shiny white boots.

"Who the fuck are you calling 'sons', _pops_?" Butch snarled.

Brick threw an arm across his brother's chest.

He met Mojo's watery gaze with one of displeasure.

"Mojo. You're back…early," he greeted.

"Of course! I had a breakthrough, that is to say I had an epiphany, or if you prefer, I have come to the realization about something that would revolutionize this war!" Mojo cackled. He really hadn't gotten rid of that evil laugh after all these years.

Brick could already feel the headache coming on as Mojo led the way into the Professor's lab. Yelling immediately assaulted their ears.

His head throbbed.

"Brick, tell him to get _rid of it_!" the Professor yelled and Brick had never seen the older man so distressed. His face was so red it looked purple. "It's a danger to _everyone_!"

"It's for science, Professor Utonium! Surely _you_ of all people should understand how momentous, how pivotal, how _important_ this is!" Mojo argued. "Do you _not_ want to turn the tide of this war? Or do you _like_ living underground, that is to say under the Earth's surface, the surface being the crust and—"

"You know I don't!" the Professor shouted back with a scowl. "But that-that _thing—_! I don't want it _here_!"

Something twisted in Brick's stomach.

A dreadful feeling he hadn't felt in years suddenly overcame him.

He turned to Mike, whose jaw was clenched and his skin pale. Their gazes met and those gray-blue eyes closed with his breath.

"Follow me," he muttered and he walked past the bickering scientists.

Walked past the pallid scientists who stared at him in askance.

Mike led him to a familiar door, a familiar door with a thermostat next to it. It had only been two weeks, hadn't it? Two weeks since Brick stood in front of this door and learned of what those aliens could do with their blood alone. What they had done to Pinky to keep her under their control.

The dreadful feeling doubled.

"Mike…" Butch murmured behind him, but the lieutenant had already opened the door.

There was a container inside the frigid room. A large container made of a dark metal with reinforced corners and a small porthole window on the small door. It looked like one of those old-fashioned diving pods, something straight from the Industrial Era. Frost already caked the whole thing and a small thermostat read somewhere below negative.

Ice covered the window.

"This is what I was trying to tell you," Mike said as he rubbed his arms. "This is what Mojo brought here."

Brick frowned before activating his x-ray vision.

His heart stopped.

One, or both, of his brothers sucked in a sharp breath. Both cursed.

Brick knew those gauntlets, knew that skin. He stared at the frost covered gold, eyes slowly travelling upwards.

A blank, inky face covered in frost. Milky bulbous eyes because those eyes had films and not eyelids like a human.

"He brought an _alien_?" Boomer breathed. "Is it…?"

One slow heartbeat echoed in his ears.

Brick clenched his fists.

"It's alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mike Believe has entered the Group Chat**


End file.
